


stone by stone

by lmas5474



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Animal Death, Assassination, Assassination Plot(s), Attempted Sexual Assault, BAMF Sansa Stark, Being Rickard Stark is Suffering, F/M, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kinslaying, Mix of Books and Series, Poisoning, Political Sansa Stark, Sansa as Tywin Lannister's Daughter, Sansa x Rhaegar for now, Time Travel, Tywin and Sansa Political Scheming, Warging
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:33:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 50
Words: 120,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23105554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lmas5474/pseuds/lmas5474
Summary: To every thing there is a season, and a time for every purpose under the heaven.Or,Sansa gets reborn as Tywin Lannister's youngest daughter,  a Lioness of the Rock. She gathers the necessary stones to build and maintain peace and, sometimes, hurls them to kill her enemies.But all actions have consequences, for good or worse.
Relationships: Aerys II Targaryen/Rhaella Targaryen, Baelor Hightower/Elia Martell, Cassana Baratheon/Steffon Baratheon, Jaime Lannister/Catelyn Tully, Joanna Lannister/Tywin Lannister, Main Pairings to be Determined, Ned Stark/Lysa Tully, Sansa Stark/Rhaegar Targaryen
Comments: 1627
Kudos: 2053





	1. Tywin/Joanna

Tywin 

Tywin watched quietly amused as the babe on the bed finally tired of their glaring contest. She yawned wide showing her little pink tongue and stretched her chubby arms and legs, her face scrunched like a grumpy kitten and her lids fluttering close. 

He can't help but smirk at the babe's attitude. Only three moons and already she showed much promise—certainly more than his two eldest.

When he saw she was finally sound asleep, he reached out and took the opportunity to gently take her in his arms. With her head cradled on the crook of his left arm, he lightly caressed her head of wispy baby hairs with the palm of his right hand, ran his pointer finger on the bridge of her button nose and gently circled his thumb on her plump, rosy cheeks. 

He felt Joanna plaster herself on his back. She then put her chin on his shoulder and embraced his middle, “Isn’t she just lovely?”

Tywin remained quiet, just marveling at the child they made all over again.

Their little lioness.

Close to ten moons ago, Joanna visited him for two moons in Kingslanding for his name day. A moon after she left, he received news that she was pregnant. Tied up as he was to his duties as Hand, he hadn't been able to stay by her side during her pregnancy. He had made plans to make up for his absence and be with her during her confinement and the childbirth but those plans were ruined by the king. He'd been stuck faraway in the capital managing the entire realm, sorting out a mess that cropped up with some of the Crownlander lords when the king refused their pleas for a tax concession after very poor harvests, quelling a worsening banditry problem near the borders of the Riverlands and the Crownlands which is a direct result of the harvest and tax issue, and trying to keep more idiotic plans of his increasingly incompetent liege from coming to fruition and sowing more chaos. 

It was only a sennight ago that he arrived home and met for the first time his new daughter.

The first time he saw the babe sleeping soundly inside her hand-carved wooden bassinet, unwanted doubts and thoughts crept in his heart and mind. 

He hadn't quite believed at first that she was his. 

Lannisters are known for gold-blonde hairs. All of his siblings carry the same traits. Most of his Lannister relatives also have the same eye and hair colors. He and Joanna are also both blonde-haired and green-eyed and these were passed on to their twins Jaime and Cersei. 

The new child on the other hand, had wispy copper-red-gold hairs and dual-colored eyes of green and blue-gray. Her skin was milky white instead of the golden hue common to those of his house. 

Only a comment from Genna about their dead mother and Kevan's and Tygett's sounds of agreement kept him silent.

“She has some of mother’s hair color and one of her eyes. But the rest is yours” his sister said.

His brain scrambled to recall the faded memories of his departed mother, the Lady Jeyne Lannister nee Marbrand. His hazy memories of her deep auburn locks and blue eyes as well as accompanying recollections of Damon Marbrand and some of his living Marbrand relatives with their deep auburn and coppery hairs made him let go of his doubts a little. When his wife showed the birthmarks on the babe's body, he secretly breathed a great sigh of relief and finally let all his doubts scattered in the wind. How could he not feel relieved? The babe's marks looked and were positioned just like his. One crescent moon-shaped on her left shoulder and another mark was a pale red leaf on her thigh.

Those marks were clear, undeniable proof she was his. 

He has not given his lady mother any thought for years now. Memories of her have grown blurred and difficult to remember in detail over time. He hadn’t known he missed her until this new daughter. In a way, he is glad that a part of her lives on in his child.

That he initially thought Joanna was capable of making a fool of him with another man—that's a shameful thought he'll have to keep to himself and never share with anyone. He found great reprieve that he had not rashly shown any sign of his suspicions of infidelity on her part and that he avoided hurting her irreparably. He vowed never to think ill of his wife ever again. 

The babe was unlike any babe he's seen or known so far and that included his experience with his two eldest. 

She's a very responsive, fascinating little thing-something he took great pride in. 

At two moons, he was told she was already capable of making sounds and constantly babbled. Now at three moons, his little lioness is already saying a few words like mama, no and stop. She also already shows a strange willfulness of her own like her refusal to blink or look away from him earlier. She kept her eyes fiercely on him as though trying to challenge him on who could forgo blinking the longest time. He won the impromptu contest of course. 

The babe didn't like being held or cuddled by anyone but Joanna, which is why he could only take the opportunity of holding her when she's sleeping. 

She also already has an ongoing rivalry with Cersei-one that started, he was told, when the almost three year old Cersei became jealous of the babe. Every time his eldest demanded and attempted to supplant the babe on their mother's arms, the little one would slap and push her elder sister away and shout ‘no' and 'stop' repeatedly with a fierce glare in her eyes. The territorial attitude of the babe is only getting stronger. The two girls cannot be within touching distance otherwise tantrums would surely flare. His eldest has clearly been spoilt and is now showing nasty tempers at having to share her mother's attention with her baby sister.

Jaime on the other hand was positively charmed of his new sister's different hair color and strange eyes. At first, the little one also pushed him away but Jaime continued to spend time near her bassinet even when he was playing with his own toys. He also loved tickling her and making her laugh and spent hours just baby talking to her. Over time, his heir built a closer bond with his sister and he can now hold her hands without any complaint from the babe.

He was told that when Cersei first saw the babe clutching Jaime's hand and she babbled and smiled at him, his eldest threw an unholy mother of tantrums. She tried to slap the babe's little hands and grabbed Jaime away and ever since has prevented him many times from getting closer with their little sister. A rebuke from Joanna put a stop to her bratty behavior but she continues to whine and beg daily in her high childish voice that the babe be returned to the gods or given away. They tried to put a stop to her ridiculous demands but the girl just won't stop. 

She's a quiet thing when left alone—his youngest. She only whimpered when hungry, when she had dirtied her clothes or someone aside from Joanna tried to hold her. When she meets new people, she would follow their every movement with intent eyes as though scrutinizing the stranger in front of her. 

Genna and his brothers made japes that, a red lioness though she was, the babe has clearly inherited his dour personality. Tygett even went as far as to mockingly say he'd pray for the gods' mercy and ask that the child grow up with a different personality of her own instead of turning out to be a female Tywin Lannister. Tywin ignored the slight. The fool just can't get over his inferiority complex.

He remembered quite vividly when he first tried to take her from her mother's arms. The babe protested so loudly and even tried to slap him repeatedly in the face with her tiny hands. The scene only made the rest of his family laugh at him. For many days, the babe's sour attitude towards him remained. She cried so loudly at every attempt he made to touch or carry her in his arms. 

It offended him a bit. If the babe was not the tiny, innocent thing she was, he'd think she's doing her best to defy him. Joanna only kissed him and laughingly reminded him of the famous biting episode he had with his grandfather when he was just a babe too and of his own solemn disposition since boyhood. Many agreed they were early signs of great intelligence and it seems his new daughter is doing a repeat of his actions.

That pleased him greatly. 

If the babe indeed grew up to be intelligent, with her red hair and exotic eyes, she might prove even greater than Shiera Seastar or Queen Naerys Targaryen. When she grew up, he can already imagine the high lords of Westeros and their heirs scrambling to ask for her hand in marriage. Tywin believed that if not Cersei, then his youngest will make a worthy queen. 

Alysanne Lannister. A great and noble promise for the future of House Lannister. He'll make sure of it.

***

Joanna 

Joanna smiled fondly as she watched her youngest daughter squint her eyes in focus. Her small, pink mouth pursed as she carefully moved the custom-made needle with her talented little hands to embroider another masterful work, “That’s lovely sweetling. Such talented daughter I have” She leaned forward and kissed her forehead.

Her daughter only gave a small, pleased smile and resumed her work.

At only five years, she is already a fiercely independent child. 

When she was only four moons, she referred to herself as San. At six moons, she demanded in her high, childish voice that she is San-zah. At ten moons, she changed it to Sansa. 

Joanna honestly didn't know how to feel about it at first. On one hand she was very proud her daughter learned to speak so young. On the opposite, she felt uneasy using a name she knew was historically used by House Stark. She was sure Tywin would feel displeasure at his child being given another house's ancestor's name, a close nickname though it was to the child's real name. 

After many tears from her babe, she decided to just let it be. She simply wrote a letter to Tywin regarding the nick name and included a report on his daughter's progress. Her husband made no complaints. 

When she turned a full year, Sansa started walking and chose to walk around her rooms and other communal areas as much as possible on her own, only allowing others to carry her when she tired or when going up and down the damned long flight of stairs of the castle. She also insisted to sit on her own chair and eat her soft foods slowly without assistance.

When she turned two, she insisted on choosing her own dress and asked to watch her mother to learn sewing. 

When she turned three she asked to be taught her letters and how to read. 

Joanna didn't like it at all, feeling as though her babe was quickly slipping far away from her. She cannot help but feel bereft at not being able to mother her properly. It made her feel as if her only role in her life was to give birth to her and nurse her until she was old enough to eat on her own. And the more her babe insisted on doing things by herself and on her own terms, the more Joanna felt an unnamed fear take root for her youngest in a deep and hidden corner in her heart. It made her very uneasy—watching her babe grow up so fast. The more she grew up, the more Joanna felt her becoming a stranger instead of her beloved daughter.

She tried to limit her explorations to self-sufficiency, tried to deflect her attentions to things babes normally do like playing with dolls and flowers but her babe would turn silent and unresponsive. When she shared this to her good sister and brothers, Genna and Gerion strongly encouraged her to support her babe's endeavors instead of clipping her wings. Kevan only agreed with them and proceeded to tell her of Tywin's similar childhood habits.

The maester too was tickled pink at the idea of raising a genius under his charge and expressed his full support. The man, she was certain, was already anticipating fame and recognition for his part in tutoring her daughter. Only Tygett had the same misgivings as she, believing that his niece need not grow up so fast and be a serious and miserable person like her father. 

She wrote to Tywin about her concerns and asked for his opinions but her husband only gave a hearty approval and even asked to have his two eldest start learning with their youngest.

“If a three year old is ready to learn her letters, surely five year olds can do better” were his words. 

So off her children went to the maester's learning room despite her many negative emotions.

The lessons had very different results on each of her children.

Sansa predictably advanced the most and showed even more just how far her intelligence was in comparison to her siblings. Only two years have passed and already the maester believed her babe has the intelligence of one already in their early teens. Her babe now made daily visits to the library and asked assistance from eager and doting maids to get the tomes shelved far too high for her to reach and far too heavy for her to lift. And once she gets started on a book, she could go for hours reading until someone intervened and made her stop. 

Cersei had low to middling results. She had many complaints regarding the lessons at first-it was tiring, the maester was boring, she kept having headaches and many more childish alibis. But when she saw that their little sister was improving by leaps and bounds and getting praises for it, she turned extremely competitive and took every chance to make herself better and eclipse her. All her efforts failed and her eldest daughter just turned even more hateful of her younger sister. 

Her son Jaime suffered the most. He lagged miles behind his sisters. He couldn't seem to make sense of the maester's lessons and after moons of depressing results, the man dismissed that her son possessed slow wits--something Joanna found difficult to accept and worried incessantly about. 

To her shame, while she fretted uselessly for Sansa's strange self-dependence, Jaime's learning difficulties and Cersei's increasingly foul attitude, it was her little babe Sansa who took the time to pay closer attention and recognized that Jaime was having troubles with his letters because the sounds kept getting reversed inside his head and as a result he constantly reversed the letters when he writes.

Her youngest daughter patiently helped her brother make out the proper sounds for the words and diligently helped correct his letters. And with Joanna finally understanding the root of the problem and spending more time to offer further assistance, Jaime is now slowly improving. Nowhere near his little sister's level but well enough for other children his age. 

This early foray in the maester's learning room and the extremely differing results made Joanna's fears fester even more. 

Yes her youngest is a very precocious child and with far more intelligence and better manners than her two older siblings but she also cannot help but notice and fear the little hints of calculative and manipulative tendencies as well as a bit of a mean streak that is so similar to Tywin's and Genna's. She's far too young yet to be having such traits but Joanna doesn't know how to put a stop to it. She could only keep watch and ensure it doesn't harm her babe or the people around her. 

Her babe employed her calculation and manipulation skills on Jaime, the servants, her aunt and uncles, visiting lords and ladies and their children. Sometimes, she even used it on Joanna. And she used these traits in different degrees with great effectiveness. 

With Jaime, she used manipulation with a bit of intimidation and sweetness. Her son is an energetic boy but one who does not really employ his wits effectively. With their time together increased during lessons and Sansa patiently helping him learn to read and write, Jaime ceased following Cersei around like a duckling and has become closer and more keen to listen to their littlest sibling instead. He has become fiercely protective of his smart but seemingly frail baby sister and always takes her words and her side during her fights with Cersei. 

With the servants, Sansa used gentle words, charming smiles and sweet politeness. She memorized and addressed the servants by their names and even asked for an anecdote or two regarding their families and work. She also always smiled, gave thanks, or praised them sweetly for every small act or favor they do for her. It's come to a point that all the servants are silently competing to be assigned to take care of her or fulfill her requests. Not that Joanna is complaining about it. In fact, she found it advantageous as the servants have become more efficient.

With her aunt and uncles, she used her analytical and reasoning skills and her charm.

Kevan is her favorite by far. She always insisted to hold his hand and ply him with so many questions and refused to stop until she got answers. Kevan could do nothing but smile at her with fondness and pat her on the head. He's also probably the one she liked best because he's always gentle with her and always gave her flowers, gifts or tokens he never failed to buy from Lannisport.

Genna and Gerion are close seconds. Both adored Sansa fiercely for taking after their mother and showered her with more attention than they did the twins. Genna has taken to teaching her the histories of House Lannister, the West and the rest of the Seven kingdoms, as well as some impolite words to add to her repertoire, Gerion does his own influencing by teaching her little tricks, telling her tales from all over the known world and buying her books from Lannisport. Tygett gave her a young filly and is teaching her how to ride

The rotation of visiting lords and ladies with their heirs have also noted and given compliments to Sansa's beauty, manners and early signs of intelligence. They especially never failed to take notice of her strange colored eyes. Already there were over a hundred proposals sent to the Rock for her babe. 

With Cersei, Sansa only showed stony indifference or cold disdain. And on one unforgettable occasion that included Cersei sneaking a dead bird on her bed, she had a look of extreme hatred that Joanna found terrifying. She firmly believed that look should never grace a child's face. Thankfully, after a soft reprimand, her daughter never did it again.

She tried many times to talk and play mediator and reconcile the two but nothing worked. Cersei remained stubborn and Sansa was too independent.

And so the two never had a warm relationship. Or more apt to say—never had a relationship despite the same blood running in their veins and the same name they carry.

Sansa in particular did not like being in close proximity with her sister and after Joanna's failed intervention, tried very hard to avoid her. On the occasions they do interact, it never fails to devolve to a fight. Joanna can't help but notice though that her youngest is the one that usually goads her eldest into starting a fight by simply making subtle changes on her facial expressions or throwing petty taunts. Cersei, prideful and rash, always easily falls for it. The girl thinks highly of herself and is quick to throw insults in retaliation. Younger though she was, Sansa learned more creative insults from Genna and knew exactly how to get the best of Cersei by wits and words alone. And when her elder sister is reduced to tears and hysterics or an ugly shade of red in anger or humiliation, Sansa would walk away and effectively end the fight with an air of superiority, Jaime following behind her like a loyal guard. 

It confounded and frightened her. She didn't understand—try hard as she did. She didn't know why and how her intelligent and polite babe could be so hostile to her elder sister.

Cersei frightened her even more. The incident with the dead bird also opened her eyes to just how far she would go to get revenge. From a sweet child, she's grown up to be haughty and crueler by the day. It bothered her mind and made her feel uncomfortable when she sees her eldest throw such mad rages and hysterics because of Jaime's attention for Sansa. It also horrified her how she's becoming more prone to using physical violence in their altercations. Jaime thankfully always put a stop to Cersei's violence by standing between them and keeping her away from little Sansa. 

For moons, Joanna spent more time with Cersei, hoping that it would change her temper. It didn't. She always regressed to uncontrollable rages and physical violence when fighting with her sister no matter what punishment Joanna doled out. It's come to the point that the maester advised milk of the poppy during her tantrums to keep her mildly sedated—something that Joanna did not want to do but seemed to be the only option left.

Joanna resolved to speak to Tywin more about these worrying problems when he returned from the capital. Meanwhile, she decided to assign her daughters rooms far from each other and guards and personal maids to keep watch and stop them from hurting each other. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Verse obv from Ecclesiastes 3:1
> 
> I'm no history buff. This isn't based on any historical account. This is just for fun. :)


	2. Sansa/Tywin

Sansa 

"I'll be a knight! A great knight like Aemon the Dragonknight and Duncan the Tall! Just you see!" Jaime declared with pride, his emerald eyes bright as he did a little show of going through the basic stances he just learned from their Uncle Tygett using his practice sword.

"And why do you want to become a knight?" Sansa asked him, pretending to be curious but already thinking of ways to lead the conversation to something that would temper his zeal and open his eyes to the harsh reality and the lies behind tales of knights and chivalry. 

Jaime Lannister, as she's come to discover in the past few years, is someone who has the tendency to act before thinking. He thrives in the face of encouragement and appreciation, is fiercely loyal to those who in turn are loyal to him, wilts under disappointment and turns arrogant and insulting when his pride is bruised. It occurred to Sansa that these strengths and flaws were most likely what made him so susceptible to Cersei's manipulation and control in the past ( _the future_ ). And now, knowing and taking advantage of these quirks, Sansa does everything she can to ensure he gravitates and remains in her sphere of influence instead of wandering toward Cersei's. 

When she first woke up in this new world, in this new reality, Sansa had not realized right away that she'd been reborn as a Lannister ( _a fucking Lannister!_ ). Her head, her chest, her back, her entire body—everything had hurt so much. The light, the sounds, the smells, every little thing had been overwhelming to her senses and she thought she'd been sent to one of the seven hells where there was nothing for her but suffering. Not wanting to deal with anything in the afterlife, she gave in to her body's need for sleep. 

When she gained consciousness next, it was to Cersei's gently smiling face looking down at her and she could not help but cry at the injustice of it all. Has the woman not tormented her enough? Has she not suffered enough? Why were the gods so cruel as to torture her with the presence of the vicious lioness even in the afterlife? 

But then Cersei called her sweetling and my sweet babe and Sansa was struck dumb. Has Cersei finally gone stark raving mad? Or has Sansa herself gone succumbed to insanity after years of hardship? Was she in a fever dream? A strange afterlife where the woman who helped her mad son in treating Sansa cruelly for so long has given birth to her to make up for the bad history between them? What an utterly cruel jape from the gods. 

She decided to sleep some more and hoped to wake up to a different afterlife. 

She did not. 

When she next woke up, it was to the same face. She almost cried once more but then the woman’s worried face neared hers and when she looked closer, she saw that the woman had gentler features than Cersei. Her eyes were kinder and the lines of her lips fuller and gentler than the Lannister queen's—features Sansa has come to know so well. 

So if the woman isn't Cersei, who is she? 

She decided then to use her senses and observe her new world more. After a few hours of lying down and listening, observing and thinking, she came to several conclusions:

First, she's not in one of the seven hells or the afterlife after all. The only explanation she came up with was that she's been reborn somehow and she highly suspected that Bran did something that ended with her in this situation. Bran was the only one of them she knew who had strange… talents. Who could go to the past and have glimpses of the future. He's the only one who could have done this. 

She died. Of this she was sure. Someone ( _a white walker, most likely_ ) shoved an ice spear from her back and she saw almost half of it protrude through her chest. When she fell on the snow, when she was breathing her final breaths, the last thing she saw was Bran sitting on his wheeled chair, looking at her and uttering something she didn't hear before his eyes turned white and he too was pierced in the chest with another blade made of ice by a white walker with little horns that looked like a crown. 

And she knew no more after that. 

Another realization she came to was that she was only a helpless, little babe. She had weak little hands and feet that she couldn't move properly. She could not properly support her head. She couldn't sit or stand. She couldn't control her mouth. She had no control of her body at all. When she went hungry, she almost vomited when she'd been offered a breast. She tried to resist but her hunger was so great and she feared dying of starvation. The smell and taste of milk was better than nothing so she closed her eyes, pushed back the bile that threatened to come out her mouth and took the offered teat. When she next failed to control her bladder and soiled her clothes, she couldn't help but cry again at the indignity of it all. When she meets Bran again—if she meets him again, she'll have harsh words with him. 

Next thing she learned was the woman's name—Joanna Lannister. Yes, she is Sansa's new mother. And yes, that means Tywin Lannister is her new father. Tywin Lannister. Sansa mourned at this discovery. ( _It will always be Ned and Catelyn Stark she'll think of as father and mother, this she swears._ )

She does not know Joanna Lannister. She knows that the two are mother and father to Cersei, Jaime and Tyrion. She remembers a rumor that the Lord Lannister loved his wife very much and thus never remarried after her death. Tywin Lannister she only knows by reputation. She knows he ended the Houses Reyne and Tarbeck. He commanded his army to sack the city of Kingslanding and approved the murder of a princess and her innocent children during the final days of Robert's Rebellion to ingratiate his house to the new monarch thirsty for dragon blood. He also ordered the sacking of the Riverlands by Gregor Clegane the Mountain during the War of the Five Kings. And the most heinous of all ( _to Sansa, that is_ ), he masterminded the breaking of Guest Rights and the massacre at the Twins—the so-called Red Wedding. She knew right away she’ll have to be very careful with him. 

Next thing she found out in her new life is that her name is Alyssane Lannister, third child of Joanna and Tywin Lannister. The name is beautiful but Sansa feared that using it would slowly erase her true identity, make her lose sight of or forget her real roots. Which is why she insisted they call her Sansa. Let them think it a silly, childish demand from a babe. Let them get used to calling her by her real name until it becomes a common, instinctual thing to do. She was-is-always will be Sansa ( _Stark_ ), no matter how many times she lives, dies and gets reborn. 

Cersei and Jaime Lannister are her older siblings.

Cersei, she knows, will always be her enemy ( _she must die. It's kill or be killed_ ).

With Jaime, she realized her memories are, for the lack of a better word, faulty. She has memories of Jaime Lannister and Lady Brienne saving her from Littlefinger in the Vale and helping her gain support to take back Winterfell from the Boltons. But she has also memories of being sold by Littlefinger to Ramsay Snow and Jaime never came to her rescue. She has memories of him swearing himself to her service and another of him being loyal to Cersei to the bitter end. 

She also remembers Tyrion. But again, her memories aren't very clear. In some memories, Tyrion is a friend and a supporter. In others, he supported a woman named Daenerys Targaryen. 

Daenerys Targaryen—Sansa has distorted memories of her too. In one version, she freed slaves in the East, brought order to the cities in Slaver's Bay and united the Dothraki to help fight for her claim on the Iron Throne. The slaves she freed all sang her praises. In another version, she freed slaves but left the cities in ruins and the people in starvation before sailing for Westeros. Upon arrival, she went on to battle with Cersei and the Lannister forces, burnt trains of foodstuffs from Highgarden and refused to help fight the dead until Jon bent the knee. So many conflicting memories but one thing she’s certain—the woman was dangerous. 

There are other memories too. Or maybe they're nightmares. Mayhap they are mere dark thoughts her mind came up with. Many of them are strange and vivid but at the same time felt like smoke—present but without form. When she tries to reach for them, they seem to slip away like shadows in the night.

She has memories of chasing cats in a dark and narrow corridors ( _why she’s done such a ridiculous thing, she’ll never know_ ), of watching the sun rise on a snow-covered hill where a heart tree stood alone on top ( _oh the view was so beautiful, worthy of remembrance but she can’t recall the place_ ), of walking along a beach with muddy sand and black, jagged rocks ( _it was frightening, there was something dangerous in the chilly air_ ), of running in the middle of a forest ( _that smelled of blood and death_ ), of swimming in a hot spring inside a cold cave (a woman’s raspy, pained voice said, _we never should have left that cave_ ).

There are others much too disturbing. Like watching faces being peeled from corpses then seeing them attached to head stone statues ( _is this what happened to those faces she found in Arya’s possession?_ ), a severed bloody arm cooked like meat over a fire ( _the Thenns, they eat man flesh, Jon said or perhaps Skagosi? They’re known cannibals after all_ ), a pale woman lying on a bed of blood and wilted blue roses ( _she looked like Arya, like a Stark. Could she be Lyanna? She has to be_ ), rotting corpses of men hanging on trees and swaying in the wind ( _and wolves howling in the in the dark_ ). 

Sometimes she's not even sure if they are indeed memories. Perhaps they are simply product of nightmares. She is not certain. She tries not to think of them but they slip into her dreams and waking thoughts. Sometimes she even thinks mayhap she's going mad and that everything—this new life, this new family, this chance to influence past ( _future_ ) events are nothing but creations of a desperate mind that has broken after it has gone through much trauma and death. But every waking moment she experienced felt real so she believes this new life is real. It cannot be anything else but real. Because if it wasn't, then what is the meaning of it all happening?

What is the point of it all? 

It has been exceedingly difficult for her but just as she survived through sheer will and mental strength in the past, she adapted to her new life too. Over time, she has come to learn that the best thing she could do is to arrange her memories into neat little boxes. She strongly holds on to those she knows are true and hers like memories of her real family, Winterfell and the North, her time in the wretched, cesspit that is the capital and the Vale, the Night King and his great multitude of dead thralls marching south. 

Those that are strange and hazy and didn’t make much sense were moved to the side. She gives them little consideration from time to time, to see if she could perhaps figure them out, but she doesn't let them rule her thoughts nor her life. If she does, she’s quite certain she'll drive herself to madness and she’ll forever be known as Sansa Lannister the Mad Lioness of the West. 

That’s not her fate. Never hers. 

( _It’s someone else’s_ ) 

  
***

Tywin 

Tywin stopped himself from opening the door to his private library when he heard his youngest child’s voice.

“…defend the king, obey the king, keep his secrets, serve at his pleasure, defend his name and honor, protect his family and whoever he commands.”

“It sounds all good San. As expected of the Kingsguard. What’s wrong with it and why are you making a big fuss about it?” 

That’s Jaime.

_What in the Seven hells?_

Intrigued at the topic, Tywin refrained from entering and remained standing and listened to his heir and his youngest's conversation. 

“Well, what if the king is cruel like Maegor the Cruel, who killed many innocent people because he could? What if he is like Baelor, who was foolish in his beliefs? What if he is like Aegon the Unworthy, who was incompetent and so lustful he had so many women and fathered bastards that caused the Blackfyre rebellions, ending in so much death and loss. How will you keep your oaths as kingsguard? What about your knightly vows of protecting the innocent and defending the weak?”

Tywin almost jerked in surprise. He wondered for a moment if he should be alarmed at his daughter’s choice of topic but promptly dismissed the thought, eager to find out where the interesting conversation is leading to. 

A long silence followed, then Jaime spoke up, voice full of hesitance and confusion.

“Then… well…are you saying it’s not good to be a knight or kingsguard? That there’s no honor in it? ” 

“I am saying that you do not have to be a knight to prove yourself great or honorable. Knightly and kingsguard vows seem all good and worthy of praise but Jaime, they are nothing but words in the face of reality. And if you adhere to them and to the ideas of chivalry, in a difficult situation, you will find yourself torn. In the face of difficult, contradicting choices, you’ll be forced to ignore one vow for another and in the end, do you know what will be left of you?”

Tywin's felt his breath catch and his green eyes sharpened in anticipation. 

“What will be left? “Jaime’s voice was small, so unlike the loud and energetic child Tywin knows him as. 

“An oathbreaker. A wretched man without honor”

_Gods._

Tywin closed his eyes. He felt several things as he stood silent and listening to the conversation. He felt pride that a child of his understood clearly what so many foolish, ambitious men failed to recognize. A girl of merely six who can clearly see the overarching problems that come with the blindly honored and revered titles of knighthood and chivalry. And yet he also felt worried. He wondered,

_Should children be left alone talking about such things?_

“But if I can’t be a knight—Sansa what should I do? I only want to be a great warrior, to bring honor to father and our house, be known for great deeds and remembered in history”

Tywin smiled wryly and sighed. Of course that’s what his son is dreaming of. A common aspiration in young, ambitious boys. 

“Of course you can be that too. But you have to train not just in the yard. You have to train your mind too and you must learn from history. So you don’t make the same mistakes like other people have done in the past”

“But it’s tiring San. It hurts my eyes” his heir complained in a petulant voice, “And besides, you’re reading so many books for the two of us already. You can continue reading and just tell me about it. How about that?” A boyish laughter followed. 

Tywin huffed at his heir’s disinterest in reading and learning. Jaime is far too active a child and prone to focusing on his sword lessons with Tygett and Gerion than his lessons with Maester Volarik. He is thankful his daughter has more brains and has more influence on the boy. 

Joanna has reported and he himself has observed that Sansa is turning out to be an effective rope tying and keeping the boy from doing careless and foolish things. He’s also attained some measure of peace and confidence that his youngest is filling the boy's brain with not just historical but practical knowledge too. And teaching the boy some real life wits. 

“I will and I’ll share with you. But you still have to read some too, you know. You will be Lord of Casterly Rock and Warden of the West someday, how will you rule wisely and effectively if you don’t know enough because you refuse to read now? What happens if our people go hungry or die because you don’t know how to solve problems? ”

“Come now little sister, don’t be too hard on me”

What followed next was the strangest and most amusing haggling among children Tywin has ever heard of. 

“I’ll stop if you’ll read one book of my choosing every sennight” his daughter’s serious voice piped up. 

“But San, that’s too much. I’m not a monster reader like you” the boy whined. 

“One book a fortnight”

“Nooo… I can’t do it. Please have some mercy”

“One book a moon. If you still don’t accept, I’ll tell mother what happened to that pretty blue vase and the drapes” 

“Fine. Fine. One book a moon. Now hush Sansi. Swear you won’t tell” Jaime agreed hurriedly, a trace of panic in his young voice. 

_Good girl. Fine form. That should be enough to help prevent the boy from growing into a know-nothing fool._ Tywin smirked. 

“I swear it” was the light reply from his clever daughter

“I somehow don’t believe you San. You looking like that… like…like a preening cat” 

“Not a cat. A lioness” amusement was clear on his little girl’s voice. 

_Indeed._

“Tch. The things you make me do” Jaime grumbled. 

“They’re for your benefit brother, for your future. Not mine”

“Yes yes, you little know it all”

“I do know a lot but not everything “his daughter quipped, then with much graver voice “Jaime you understand what we talked about, don’t you? About knights and kingsguard and vows?”

“I won’t be a kingsguard. You’re right. Who wants to serve a cruel or unworthy king anyway? But Sansi, I really want to be knight. That’s alright isn’t it? I mean the vows… surely I can keep them?”

“You can be a knight. Just don’t make promises you can’t keep Jaime”

Tywin thought something good enough was already achieved by just him standing there and listening in. He decided to walk away from the door and leave the two children alone. 


	3. Joanna/Sansa/Tywin/Genna

Joanna/Sansa

“Mother? Father? I don’t want to go. I would like to just stay here at the Rock” her youngest daughter’s face was as solemn as her father’s. 

Joanna looked at her daughter with mild confusion. For a child so keen in learning new things, she had expected Sansa to show enthusiasm at the chance to see and experience life in the capital. 

“But sweetling, don’t you want to see the capital? Don’t you want to experience what it’s like living in the Red Keep and the Tower of the Hand? Don’t you want to see the greatest knights in the land?”

_No, thank you. I had quite enough of that stinking shit pile of a city already. I had enough of the Tower of the Hand, of mad kings and of kingsguards who know nothing but follow their king’s orders. No more._

“No mother. Uncle Gerion said the city smells of…of waste and piss and unwashed people. Not like Lannisport. So I’m not interested to see it. I’m not interested in the kingsguards either. And from what I've read and learned, Casterly Rock is the greatest castle in the realm. Why go live in a lesser castle surrounded by strangers and people we don’t know or trust?”

Joanna looked and raised a questioning brow at her husband who remained silent but had a faint smirk during the entire exchange. 

“The Red Keep is the greatest castle, you idiot. It’s where the King and the Queen and Prince Rhaegar live. It’s also where the most important lords go to seek the royal family. And the kingsguards are the best of the best warriors” Cersei sneered then rolled her eyes at Sansa. 

Sansa almost wanted to laugh at how her nemesis' words reminded her of her past self. If that was how she looked like when she was talking about Kingslanding and Joffrey, then it’s no wonder why Arya hated and constantly opposed her so.

She however ignored the older girl in favor of looking at Tywin Lannister. She made sure to project a sure, calm face to the lion lord. 

“Please father. I want to stay here. I promise to behave. I can be the lady and keeper of the Rock for you”

A faint amused smile appeared on his face for but a moment then it became stoic once more “Very well. You will remain here and be castellan with your Uncle Kevan and Aunt Genna’s help. You still have enough time to be presented at court in the future anyway. But Cersei and Jaime will both go”

“My love! Castellan?” Joanna worriedly asked her husband. 

“Yes. It will be her task and a challenge from me” the lord then returned intense green eyes to Sansa. 

Sansa stood up with all the grace she could summon in her young body and curtsied, “I shall strive to honor you and House Lannister my lord”

“But father, she's just a stupid little girl! She can’t be castellan! What if she messes up? What if she destroys our home? She’ll shame us all.” Cersei cried out, face turned ugly in her jealousy. 

“Sansa is the next smart person I know to father and mother. She can do it” Jaime piped up and smiled in support of his favorite sibling. 

“She’s a girl! The youngest and not even the spare!” Cersei fairly snarled. 

“Quiet Cersei” Tywin gave the older girl a sharp glare then turned to Sansa once more, “As I said, this is a challenge. Your Uncle Kevan and Aunt Genna shall both oversee and provide you counsel and will send reports to me. They will intervene should it be clear you’re going to make a mistake. If that should happen, you will follow their advice. Understand?”

“Yes Lord Father”

Sansa maintained a calm façade to hide her pride and elation in check. _The Rock in my hands! If Robb and mother could see me now._

“Good. Your mother has told me you’ve been watching and asking questions on how she goes about her duties as Lady of the Rock. That was a wise move. Cersei, you are the eldest. You should have also paid the same attention” Tywin turned to the older girl, green eyes disapproving. Cersei’s face crumpled then she turned to glare at Sansa as if to blame her.

Tywin’s voice cut it short “Cersei, cease your tantrums. It’s high time you act more appropriately. You’re a Lannister not some commoner. You’re the eldest yet you act like the youngest. How disappointing! The three of you will see me in the afternoons for the next sennight before we leave for the capital. Am I clear?”

“Yes Father” Sansa and Jaime both replied. Cersei only threw another sharp look Sansa’s way. 

“Did I make myself clear Cersei? Face on me and not your little sister” Tywin demanded. 

Cersei cowered like a frightened doe under the man’s stare and spoke in a low voice “Y-yes… yes father”

***  
Tywin

Tywin sat with his back leaned on the headboard, an open book on his hand. 

“My love, is it really wise to let our girl hold the title of castellan so early? Isn’t it too much pressure for a child so young?” Joanna said from her place in front of her vanity, slowly putting her chosen jewelries in boxes in preparation for their return to the capital. 

“Your letters to me and everything I have heard from Kevan and Genna and what I myself observed so far give me confidence she can do it. And besides, she won’t be alone. Kevan, Genna and even Tygett and Gerion will be here for her every step of the way. They will intervene if her actions become careless. And I shall be overseeing some lessons for the three before we leave” Tywin assured his worried wife while marking the last page he read. 

Joanna sighed, “I understand but oh Ty! She’s so young yet to see to matters of ruling.”

“She’s young yes but she’s got maturity to match men beyond her years” Tywin said with confidence.

“What is it? You have that look on your face Ty”

“I’m reconsidering my plans. Sansa is clearly the better choice for a queen. Not Cersei. That child is foolishly arrogant and much too spiteful. She doesn’t know how to hold her temper nor her tongue. Not a calm and rational head to make wise decisions”

Tywin’s lips twisted in distaste at everything he has observed of his eldest. He’s been planning for a great future for her and here the girl is, showing early signs of incompetence and foolishness. Sansa is much younger in comparison to Rhaegar but she is leagues smarter and more in control of herself unlike Cersei. The age gap may be a problem but his youngest is the better choice. 

“I am more worried for Cersei too, Tywin. Perhaps we should consider fostering her to another house to separate her and Sansa? Or perhaps have Sansa fostered so we can keep an eye on Cersei? I have done all I can to mediate between those two and when it didn’t work, I separated them but her attitude is not getting any better. I just hope this time away in the capital changes her temperament, even just a bit. Perhaps seeing her possible future with a crown would make her mature and start to take things seriously instead of dwelling in her petty jealousies and rivalry with her little sister”

Tywin’s eyes sharpened at his wife “No, I will not have Sansa fostered. I’ll not trust that child to anyone else who will see her worth and try to destroy or take advantage of it. If I have to choose, Cersei will be the one to go away. Enough talk about this for now Joanna. We’ll talk about fostering after Cersei's time in Kingslanding”

***

Genna 

“So my favorite niece will be our castellan eh?” Genna said as she sauntered inside her brother’s solar, Kevan behind her. 

She grinned at the intelligent and pretty child who was sitting in front of her father’s desk while said father sat on his lord’s chair, silently writing on a parchment. 

“With yours and Uncle Kevan’s help Aunt” the girl gave her and Kevan a sweet smile. 

Genna laughed in fond amusement. 

Oh how she adored the little girl. What she'd give to have a daughter as adorable as her! Not only did she possess some of their beloved departed mother’s looks, she’s also a clever little thing with proper manners she’d love to corrupt a little. 

She raked her fingers on the girl’s loose, beautiful red-gold hair and kissed her on the head “Oh sweet girl, I am so proud of you. It's not everyday your cold, demanding and grumpy father trusts a child to hold the Rock. And yes, you can count on me. Let’s make this the best learning experience for you sweetling”

Genna only grinned when she saw Tywin threw her a glare for her remark on his attitude. 

“Thanks Aunt” the girl grinned up at her, dual colored eyes bright. 

“So little lady, are you prepared to take over?” Kevan asked as he sat down on the chair next to the little girl. 

“Father has gone over the duties I’m expected to perform and his expectations of me. With you and Aunt Genna behind me, I feel confident Uncle Kevan”

Kevan merely chuckled and patted the child’s head. 

It’s no secret to those living in the Rock that little Sansa is their favorite and the one they most dote on amongst Tywin’s brood. Oh Jaime is a fine boy and can play rough with Tyg and Gerion in the yard but the little girl is by far a more interesting child with her wits and endless curious questions that sometimes stump even them. Even the grumpy Tyg is charmed by her despite his issues with Tywin. She’s like a little Tywin but with far more charming manners like Joanna and their late Lady Mother. 

It’s not too surprising that Tywin is also already showing favor to his little girl. Genna can already imagine that this castellan business is Tywin’s way of testing her. If the girl fails, it can easily be covered and none would know. If somehow a story breaks out, it can be easily dismissed due to her young age. But if she succeeds, then it's another big win Tywin could claim for House Lannister. Another thing to be proud of and elevate their reputation among Westerosi high lords. She won’t be surprised either if the Great Lion is already plotting to put a crown on top of his daughter’s head. Not that she has complaints. She too can see that her precious niece deserves it. 


	4. Sansa/Tywin

Sansa 

The West—Sansa has come to learn using the confidential treasury accounts Tywin Lannister has shown her as part of her castellan lessons—isn’t just rich compared to the North. It’s gods damned filthy rich perhaps fifteen to twenty times over per head of population. And House Lannister itself currently has over two hundred times gold reserves than what House Stark started with before the War of Five Kings. 

She knows this for a fact using the Stark treasury accounts she’s examined during the preparations for the War against the Dead. They’ve all scrambled for every bit of coin to purchase food and other necessary materials they needed to prevent their people from dying of starvation and the cold. The Stark and Bolton treasury were both thoroughly perused to look for the badly needed coin. With this, she also came to realize that with the Lannister’s great wealth on standby to finance wars alone, Robb’s campaign South never had any chance to succeed. 

It’s no wonder people say Lannisters shit gold. No wonder Aerys Targaryen developed a complex and was bitterly jealous of the Lord of the Rock. No wonder House Lannister was able to finance Robert Baratheon, Joffrey and Cersei’s vices and extremely lavish lifestyles and disastrous wars. No wonder Lannister arrogance almost knows no bounds. No wonder almost everyone in the Seven Kingdoms were at their pocket. 

Then other thoughts came to her.

Could this vast wealth be the reason why Tywin Lannister fought so hard and did horrible things with impunity to have his blood on the throne? So his lands are protected by the Crown and none would dare to try take from him? 

Could this be the reason also why Cersei did everything to control Jaime, the future Lord of the Rock? So she could continue to have unlimited access to said wealth through either him or their children? 

Her studies of the territories, trade and economy gave her a better understanding of how wealth is generated and distributed in the West. 

As everyone in Westeros knows, the primary source of income by the westerners are gold and silver. Massive deposits of these two important resources as well as some precious stones dot the western hills—at least half a dozen from Casterly Rock, the Golden Tooth, Castamere, Nunn’s Deep, the Pendric Hills and Silverhill. Large quantities of these are mined that the riches of the Rock is so famous and spoken of as far away as Qarth and even Asshai.

Another key industry lies in its shores and surrounding waters. Vast shoals of fish and other marine life can be found off the shores of Crakehall along the Ocean Road, the Kayce Peninsula, the straights of Fair Isle, all the way to the shores of the Crag and Banefort. Pearls can also be found in the saltwater oysters, abalones and queen conchs. 

With its many forested highlands, boars and other game animals are in abundance. 

There’s not much land for farming in the rocky and mountainous northern and central parts of the West. Fertile soils for raising crops and rearing animals like horses can only be found south, near the borders of the Reach. 

Despite this lack in farm lands, the West has no cause for worry because of Lannisport. A key part of Western economy and the third-largest city on the continent, the city undertakes trade with Oldtown, the Arbor and even the Summer Islands to the south, Dorne, Kingslanding and the Free Cities to the far south-east.

And now Tywin Lannister is entrusting to her the proverbial keys of Casterly Rock. It’s all so exciting and terrifying at the same time. 

***

“Brother, promise me you’ll write every sennight. I’d like to hear of your adventures in the capital” Sansa asked Jaime. She needs to make sure she can reinforce the distance between the two even if through ravens alone. 

“Of course San! Why don’t you just join us? Mother won't be angry if you decide you want to go with us instead. Come on! Just imagine all the fun we could have there” Jaime tried to persuade her.

Though Sansa would like to personally keep an eye on him all the time so Cersei don’t have an opportunity to make any dastardly move, she feels avoiding the Mad King Aerys is a far more important thing to do. 

The capital will be a danger to her. Not just because she is the youngest daughter of Tywin Lannister but because of her features. She does not have the natural Lannister looks. She’s sure her seemingly exotic copper-red-gold hair color and dual-colored eyes will be enough to fuel people’s curiosity and desire to meet and see her. That she can’t allow to happen. 

Notoriety in the time of King Aerys' reign who is possibly already on his downward spiral to madness will only be a liability, not an asset or advantage. She needs to stay as far away as she can and not get accidentally involved or reveal herself a player in the court’s cruel game of thrones “I don’t want to go Jaime. I’ll remain here and face father’s challenge”

The boy sighed and pouted, “Now who will play with me and help me if I’m in trouble?”

“Not Cersei, certainly. You know her true attitude now brother so stay away from her for my sake. I would be sad if I get news she led you to trouble. How about Ser Vylarr or Ser Godwyn? Those two look quite young yet they’re both already knighted and serving father. Perhaps they can help you hone your swordsmanship? You’ll have to ask father of course”

Jaime’s face brightened “That’s a fine idea San. Yes, I like it. I’ll ask father”

Sansa nodded, pleased he easily agreed. 

The two guards Vylarr and Godwyn look to be no more than twenty but the fact they’re serving Tywin Lannister means he already had them vetted before taking them into his service. She's also observed them quite a bit from afar and found them disciplined enough. She’ll entrust Jaime to their company rather than Cersei. 

“There’s one more thing Jaime. Remember what we talked about oaths and kingsguards?”

The boy’s emerald eyes sharpened “They are not to be trusted, no matter how great or honorable people call or think them. They only follow the king, good or bad”

“Yes. Take care of yourself Jaime. Always stay close to the guards and father and mother, alright? I’ll be here waiting for your return”

“I’ll miss you Sansi” the boy suddenly hugged her tight. 

Is it wrong that she finds herself feeling very fond of him nowadays? That he somehow reminds her of Robb and Bran and doesn’t want to see him harmed the same way her brothers were? 

She’s a grown up in a child’s body but Jaime is just a boy. Just an innocent boy who’s kind and gentle to his little sister and dreams of knighthood like Bran and bringing honor to his house like Robb. 

She always did wonder before how cruel Cersei and Joffrey were and how good and kind Myrcella and Tommen were. Now she knows. This is where those two came from. From this kind and gentle and loving little boy. The little boy the Kingslayer, oathbreaker and sister-fucker left behind. 

Sansa slowly reciprocated the hug. 

_Cersei is dangerous. She’ll pounce at this opportunity and make a mess of things._

_I need to do something. I cannot leave things to chance._

***

Tywin 

Three slow knocks on the door broke the silence in his private solar.

“Who is it?” he asked the intruder on the other side. 

“It’s Sansa father, may I speak with you please?” his daughter's muffled reply. 

“Get in”

Tywin lifted his head from the scroll he was reading and saw the door opened. His youngest daughter stepped in then closed it behind her. 

The little girl approached, hands clenched at her side, mouth set in a firm line. Then she stopped in front of his desk and waited for him to talk. 

“Sit down girl”

He watched as she sat primly on one of the tall, high back upholstered chairs in front of him “What is it you want to speak with me?”

The girl’s face was grave and he knew there was a possibility he wouldn't like the reason of her request to talk, “It’s about Jaime and Cersei father”

He dropped the scroll on the finished pile and gave his youngest his full attention, “What about Jaime and Cersei?”

Spine straight, chin up and eyes unwavering. Like a little princess destined to be queen. “Jaime is good father. He’s kind and innocent. Cersei… Cersei is not “

He continued looking at her.

She took a deep breath and with trepidation he’s never seen before from her, she continued “She’s …I fear her Father. I fear what her influence could do to Jaime. I saw something. I didn’t tell mother because I’m not certain of what I saw myself”

A cold shiver went down Tywin’s spine. What could his wickedly sharp daughter have seen of Cersei that spooked her so? “And what did you see?”

“I don’t really know if I saw it right or if I am merely imagining bad things because of the…nasty relationship between us. Jaime didn’t pay it any mind. Like I said, he’s innocent. Perhaps he thought Cersei was only being…grabby or forceful. Or perhaps he thought it was a jape. But father, it looked to me like Cersei tried to kiss and touch Jaime inappropriately…like…like she was seducing him to get him to choose her over me and for him to do things her way.”

Tywin’s jaws clenched so hard, the sound of his gnashing teeth was heard in the suddenly quite solar.

He looked at his youngest child once more.

Sansa is a smart little thing. Her dual-colored eyes are very sharp. And so far, everything he’s seen from her were signs of greatness. She’s not prone to emotional outbursts and like he, preferred to think things through rather than act carelessly. If she says she saw it the way it was, then he could believe it. 

_Incest! His eldest daughter showing an inclination to incest? Abomination! He’ll wring her little neck first with his own bare hands before she drags House Lannister through the mud. He’ll not let anyone destroy what he worked so hard to build. His legacy._

“Keep this to yourself. Tell no one. Understand? Not your aunt and uncles. Not your mother. Not even Jaime. No one else must know. I will see to this. I will ensure this disgusting—this abomination does not come to fruition.”

“I understand perfectly father. I swear not to tell anyone else. You have my word” 

His daughter stood up to her feet and bowed to leave. 

“Come here daughter”

Wide, confused eyes of green and blue-gray look up at him. He opened his arms for an embrace. She hesitantly walked forward and entered the cradle of his arms. “Father?”

He ran his hands on her soft, brilliant hair, “Do you know what legacy means?”

“It’s what remains of you when you’re gone” Sansa whispered, her little face tilted up at him. 

“Yes. That’s right. It’s what you pass down to your children—your descendants. What remains of you when you're gone”

He cradled her face and made her look him in the eyes, “You and Jaime are the future of our house. The two of you will carry on my legacy when I am gone. I trust you understand your role and will do what you can to protect it.”

“Yes father”

He patted her little shoulders, “Very good. You did well telling me what you saw. Do not let this bother you any further. Keep going and doing as you have and continue making me proud. Make our house proud”

His little red lioness nodded her head, face solemn. 

“Go on now my girl. I have things to see to”

He watched as she walked then paused at the door to look back at him. He gave her another nod and she walked out and closed the door gently behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To make sure credit is given to whom credit is due:
> 
> Western Economy here is based mainly on "An Economic Map of the Seven Kingdoms" by werthead in a song of ice and fire, economy, trade,
> 
> The Stark-Lannister wealth comparison and gold reserve difference is based on Nathalie Caron's GAME OF THRONES RICH LIST INFOGRAPHIC SHOWS WESTEROS' NET WORTH.
> 
> Tywin's Legacy talk scene from GoT Series
> 
> Minor tweaks here and there are mine.


	5. Sansa/Kevan

Sansa 

The two feuding women stood on either side in front of Sansa, each one of them have friends and family members supporting them and talking in their defense. The babe in question was in the arms of a septa standing in the middle of the open court. The adulterous husband, a well-to-do merchant from within the city stood on the side, red-faced and fuming. 

_You should’ve kept your cock in your pants or kept them in separate roofs if you don’t relish being dragged and made a spectacle by two women._ Sansa thought irately. 

It has been a long five hours of hearing petitions that included missing horses that still need further investigation, a robbery including assault that ended in flogging and hefty fines, rape that ended in a trial by combat and subsequent death of the reported serial rapist knight (her Uncle Tygett was most willing when she asked him to fight for the poor woman and her sickly-looking, old hedge-knight of a brother) and two counts of murder that ended in two heads rolling and another fugitive still at large.

And here comes this group of loud women and a disgrace of a man. Just listening to them volley insults about their private, intimate lives back and forth and looking at their faces make Sansa feel tired. 

How do you solve this kind of problem? Wait. Faces… _A game of faces! Ah Arya, how I miss you so._

“Perhaps, we should consider a recess, my lady” Kevan proposes from beside her. 

“No uncle, we’ll finish it now” she looks him in the eye. 

“This is rather a complicated issue little lady, more evidence must be found”

“The evidence is here Uncle. We’ll show it to everyone”

“What evidence? Niece—”

“Trust me Uncle” she squeezes his arm. 

Kevan looks at her intently then eventually nods his head slowly. 

She turns to the crowd, “Silence please” she commands. 

They don’t hear her. 

“SILENCE YOU IDIOTS!!! YOUR LADY WANTS TO SPEAK”

Her Uncle Tygett bellows from her other side, his unsheathed sword put on top of the table as though to threaten. 

The people jolt like a wave and all go quiet. 

“Thank you Uncle” she tells the irritated Tygett Lannister. Then she stands and looks at the assembled petitioners and many spectators. 

“Now, you’re both saying the babe that died a fortnight belonged to neither of you and this child here belongs to both of you. That one of you robbed the other a child and replaced it with a dead one in the middle of the night but none can say who’s telling the truth or lies. No credible sources at all can present proof.”

She looks both women and their maids in the eye. They all nod and some look about to speak but Sansa raises her hand for silence. 

“So how about this? You’ll fight for the child. Like a trial by ah… tugging. Well put a mark on the floor. You will both hold each of his arm and you’ll tug. Whoever wins, gets the child”

The people, including her uncles look at her as though she’s gone and lost her marbles. Whispers start to buzz. Sansa remains watchful of the two women and sees progress. 

“My lady! That’s…That will hurt my son, my lady” the libertine father approaches and protests.

“Oh? And you didn't think it will lead to this situation when you committed adultery, impregnated your mistress and brought her under the same roof as your lady wife, my lord?” she asks the man sarcastically. 

The spectators titter. Tygett sniggers. Kevan maintains a calm facade. The merchant reddens and slinks back to his original place. 

“If I have to do it to get my child back, I will” the mistress haughtily declares. 

The poor legal wife is clearly torn. Her eyes pleading for another solution. 

“This solution is not to your liking my lady? How about this then? Uncle Tygett, please take the babe”

Tygett raises a brow in question. She nods at him and he goes to do as she bid. When the child is finally in his arms, Sansa turns to the two women. 

“Since we cannot seem to resolve this, in the spirit of fairness, let’s have the child cut in two, you get half of him each” she smiles at them. 

“Sansa!” “Niece” Tygett and Kevan both speak out in alarm. 

The father pales and looks about to faint. The crowd goes crazy. Whispers of “barbaric”, “as expected of lions”, “female Tywin” buzz through the tense air. Their guards all move closer, hands on the hilts of their swords. 

Kevan tries to get up and speak. Sansa looks at him for but a moment and gives him a reassuring smile. He sits back down. 

The two women? Their reactions are just like she wanted. 

“No please! My lady, you can’t. He’s just a boy. Just a babe. He’s innocent. Spare him, I beg you. Please. I renounce my claim. I renounce my claim on the babe” the legal wife goes to kneel in supplication, face now wet with tears. 

The other woman smiles triumphantly. After a while, with eyes gleaming, the haughty woman turns to Tygett “My lord, may I have my son now please? It’s time he is returned to his real mother”

Tygett looks at the woman, then questioningly at Sansa. 

Sansa shakes her head, “No uncle, give the child to the legal wife”

The crying, kneeling woman gasps and looks up with confused but hopeful eyes. Spectators twitter noisily once more. Judging eyes look her way. 

“She has renounced her claim on the child my lady! Is this how justice will be dealt now? By a little highborn girl playing a game and making fools of us common folk? Ser Kevan? Ser Tygett?” the mistress angrily asks. 

Sansa grasps Kevan’s arms, looks at the fool in front of her and lifts her chin, “I did play a game, but it’s you who made a fool of yourself, lady. You, as well as your servants, have sworn repeatedly to me, in the presence of all these good people, that you were telling the truth. You lied. To these people. To me, the appointed castellan and lady of Casterly Rock. You’re not the child’s mother. You want him hurt. You want him dead.”

Baffled eyes of the spectators look at her. Kevan sighs, understanding now clear on his face. Tygett too, smirks and goes to the legal wife and gives her the child. The woman cries and hugs the child to her bosom, saying her gratitude over and over again. 

“My game was a test. To see which one of you would show care or harm to the child. If you’re indeed the caring mother you claim to be, you should have begged me to spare him from pain or death. You did not. The real mother did. She loves the child enough that she’s willing to give him up to save him. Whereas you willingly wanted to go through my suggestion even if you had to hurt him and looked pleased at my suggestion to cut him in half”

The people in the hall go buzzing once more. There are relieved laughter and words of admiration for the clever trick now. Some even claiming they knew it was a test. Judging eyes on Sansa are now turned to the mistress and glances her way are accompanied with smiles of adoration. 

“Fornication with a married man, thieving, swearing false oaths to your liege and in front of witnesses and attempted murder. Tell me again, my good people, what the punishments are for these crimes”

The people eagerly throw their answers. Stocks. Flogging. Hand decapitation. Walk of atonement. Death by stoning and other brutal punishments. 

The mistress goes from red anger to sickly white at hearing the people’s suggestions. Her haughty expression gone now and replaced with that of a panicking prey caught in a death trap. 

Sansa looks at the crowd, nods in gratitude and raises her hand to silence them. This time, they follow her command and they all fall quiet. 

“My lady… please. I was wrong. I didn’t mean to—” the woman kneels with shaking hands and legs. 

“But you did. You deliberately robbed a child from his mother. Claimed him as your own. You repeatedly lied to my face and all the people here. You willingly put him in danger. How would you like to pay for your crimes?”

The woman starts to weep, truly frightened now that she knows her situation is dire. She looks to her friends but they look away. She looks to her lover but he only shakes his head and closes his eyes. 

Sansa loathes the woman but what would decapitating her do? How would making her go through the humiliating walk of atonement help? How would her death be beneficial? 

“I offer you the choice of joining the silent sisters. There you shall repent of all your sins and be of service to all”

The woman closes her teary eyes and nods repeatedly. 

Sansa signals for two guards to take the woman away. The hall breaks out into applause, words of praise and wishes of seven blessings my lady fill the hall. 

Sansa gives her thanks to the crowd and calls for the wife and husband to approach.

She first addresses the wife. Knowing the danger she’s in from a possible retaliation from her unfaithful husband, she asks the woman if she wants to continue living with the man or go home to her family. It’s an upsetting and difficult situation but that’s the fate of women. To endure or risk fighting. Sansa would like to give her a choice, no matter how very small it is. Sadly but understandably, in this case, the woman chose to endure. She opts to stay with her husband. All Sansa can do is accept the decision and hope she remains safe.

She then addresses the husband. 

“This ridiculous spectacle never would’ve happened had you honored your vows and remained faithful to your wife my lord. You too are guilty crimes of adultery—the proof was just blatantly presented to our faces. You are also guilty of putting your wife and child in harm’s way. How would you like to pay for your actions?”

The man splutters incoherently. The crowd all make sounds of approval to have the man answer for his role in what happened.

“How would you like to pay my lord?”Sansa asks again. 

“I’ll pay a fine my lady. I… a-a hundred silver stags?”

Sansa wants to snort at the paltry offer but refrains,

“No. You will give three gold dragons to your wife as payment for everything you made her go through. These coins she alone will have full control of. You will also give a gold dragon to the sept at Lannisport that oversees an orphanage. Consider this your act of atonement for making me have to adjudicate for the consequences of your wrongs. A guard shall oversee to ensure proper turnover of these coins happen. And finally, 30 lashes.”

The man hurriedly accepts, afraid of making his situation worse than it already is. 

“Know this, should anything untoward happen to your wife and the child, you shall be the first suspect to answer. Let this be a lesson to you my lord and a warning to others.”

***

Kevan 

Kevan looked on in amusement as Genna and Gerion both snigger after Tygett shared what happened. 

“That was impressively handled sweetling. Nicely done indeed. Oh how I wish I was there” Genna said amidst laughter. 

“Only because Uncle Kev and Uncle Tyg helped. Thank you for agreeing to this” the child looked at him and Tygett and smiled in gratitude. 

“You are welcome my lady. I am in your service” Kevan assured the brilliant little girl. 

“This business of holding court and overseeing petitions in the city once every fortnight is a fine idea niece. Only the first time and people already love it. They adore you and sing your praises and express their gratitude for House Lannister. I expect there will be a bigger crowd next time to seek your wise ruling” Tygett patted the little girl on her head.

“This should have happened decades ago. But with your grandfather so incompetent and your father much busy at court—well, you see where we are now. Well done sweetling. It’s truly impressive” Genna praised the child once more. 

“I should join the next time. You can count on me Sansa, especially if you need someone for trials by combat. I assure you I can do a better job at it than Tyg” Gerion winked at her. Tygett only snorted at the arrogant claim. 

“Ah, Tywin and Joanna would love to hear about this. I’m sure of it. Brothers, I claim first dibs on writing about this and sending them a raven” Genna smiled wickedly. 

Kevan only huffed and Gerion and Tygett both rolled their eyes at their sister, knowing she’ll not hold back in sharing the events.

It has become some sort of childish competition now—reporting to Tywin and Joanna the ideas and accomplishments their clever daughter come up with. 

Kevan had to admit it really was impressive for a child of only six. Only three moons have passed with the little lady holding the reigns of the Rock and already she’s creating waves. 

The first thing she did that baffled even them was inviting a different household staff or castle guard at the high table every night for dinner and asking about their lives and their opinions on what issues need to be addressed and how. 

At first, Kevan and Genna were cynical and reluctant of the new practice but now they see it does have positive effects. All the workers at the Rock seem to be even more inspired to work even harder and with greater efficiency. 

The second thing Tywin's favorite (Kevan is certain of this) daughter did was to conduct a survey of Lannisport orphans and unemployed women. She’s now collaborating with the kindly Lannisport septon, septas and some women to open two orphanages—one on the north side of the city and the other on the south side.

Tywin only approved of the move after having been sent a lengthy letter by his daughter detailing the benefits (ie less crime and violence in the streets, a safe place where children and the destitute can learn crafts to make their own living and become productive citizens of the west, ensuring poverty does not become a malignant disease, beneficial to House Lannister's reputation). 

And now this holding court in the city and handling petitions once every fortnight. 

He’s very proud of the girl. Such a gift to House Lannister. And so very young still! He can only hope of fathering a daughter half as beautiful and clever as she is. 

He is glad for it—glad that Tywin has a child he can depend on and trust with their house and lands should his heir fall or fail. His lord brother deserves it after all the sweat and blood he has shed to drag and rebuild their family from the mud the incompetent Tytos Lannister, their father, left it in. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The scene of the two women fighting over a child is patterned after I Kings 3:16-28 where Solomon shows his wisdom. Of course, some things were added to fit the story


	6. Sansa/Tywin /Genna

Sansa 

Over the years, Sansa has come to understand the quirks and dynamics of the Lannister siblings. 

Tywin Lannnister, faraway though he always is due to his duties as Hand of the King in the capital, has the longest and darkest shadow that covers all of them. Even in his absence, his presence lingers—powerful and suffocating at times. A single raven containing a few words from him could send the entire house into a tizzy. 

Kevan, she’s come to know, has wholeheartedly accepted and resigned himself to his older brother’s shadow and has turned himself into a creature of duty, loyalty, and obeisance. Where Tywin goes, he will follow. If Tywin says jump, he’ll simply ask how high and do as commanded. It’s admirable and at the same time tragic. Without Tywin, Kevan, she’s sure, could be a man considered great all on his own. He's an intelligent, patient man and lacks the potent danger Tywin has. In truth she prefers him best over the rest of them. In some way, he reminds her of Ned Stark. 

Genna has about half of Tywin’s cunning—but all the same, a lioness—lethal on her own. She hides it behind vulgarity and vanity. She refuses to follow established conventions and propriety ( oh, how this particular traits reminds her of her wild sister) and tends to act or say outrageous things to shock people. But that is exactly what makes her dangerous. She’s a master at making people feel disoriented and out of their depths. Just like Kevan though, she’s also loyal and obedient to Tywin Lannister. 

Tygett is the troubled middle child—the one with a huge chip on his shoulder. The most gifted at sword fighting of the Lannister brothers, Tygett desires to stand and be known as his own man (which reminds her of Jon and Theon). There’s gruff kindness and gentleness in him too, ringing so close to that of the Hound’s. But continuously struggling and climbing out from under the mountain of Tywin Lannister’s greatness is proving to be in vain and Tygett is on his way to becoming a bitter man. 

Gerion, she finds, is somewhat similar to Tyrion. Knowing he cannot escape Tywin’s influence, the youngest Lannister sibling has decided to simply accept it. But unlike Kevan and Tygett, he doesn’t take things as seriously and instead makes a jest of things whenever he can and always acts with reckless abandon. Why cry when you can laugh? is what he’d always say. He’s also the most adventurous of them all. He always has a humorous story to tell and Sansa found that if she wants information and not have to go through hoops or many levels of manipulation, Gerion is the best to question. With his easy attitude, he has many people flocking to his side and these people share gossips freely when they’re deep in their cups—gossips Gerion shares all too willingly, if she asks the right questions. 

Growing up in Winterfell with only the statues of her dead Uncle Brandon and Lyanna and her remaining Uncle Benjen stuck at the Wall, having so many uncles now is quite an experience she’s enjoying and benefiting from so far. 

If she wants intellectual discussions regarding Tywin Lannister and needs support in her projects, she goes to Kevan. If she wants a deeper understanding of the Rock or the families loyal to House Lannister and their hidden weaknesses or dirt, she goes to Genna. If she requires protection, she goes to Tygett. If she wants information from beyond the western territories, she goes to Gerion. 

It’s all quite a convenient arrangement. 

***

“I want to learn archery and how to wield a blade” she declares to the three men at the dinner table. 

Three golden heads and three pairs of emerald green eyes turn to her. 

“What did you just say?” Tygett asks with furrowed brows as Gerion starts laughing.

“Will you teach me archery and how to wield a dagger or a short sword Uncle Tyg?”

The men all shift uncomfortably in their chairs. 

“Where is this coming from little lady? Why the sudden interest in male pursuits?” Tygett asks in confusion. 

“I want to learn how to protect my self” she tells them. 

Kevan first looks at Tygett then at her, “What seems to be the problem little lady? Do you feel unsafe? We can put more guards on you if that is what you require”

“No no. I don’t need more guards Uncle. What I want is to learn”

“But why?” he asks, baffled. 

“Someday, I will have to marry. I will have to live in my husband’s castle and depend upon his protection. What if he turns out to be a brute? What if the guards he provides me with are incompetent or turn traitor on me? I want to be able to protect myself if necessary”

_The North follows strength. And Winter is Coming._

Tygett snorts, “None would dare to hurt you. You’re a Lannister, daughter of the feared Tywin Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock, Warden of the West and the Hand of the King”

“I’m sure that's the same promises great grandmother Rohanne heard before she disappeared without a trace. The same assurances Lelia Lannister was given when she married only to be mutilated and murdered by the ironborn, the same oaths Queen Helaena Targaryen was given before she was cruelly made to choose between her two children's lives, the same words thousands of women heard only to die horrible deaths”

_No one can protect me. No one can protect anyone._

The three men all gave each other knowing looks, their eyes doing a silent conversation.

“Oh just let her learn” Gerion huffs after a while, “She’s a clever girl, she’ll know when to use what she knows and when not too, isn't that right sweetling?” Gerion asks her. 

Sansa nods to him in gratitude. 

“Your lord father and mother won’t like this little lady” Kevan says, eyes understanding but clearly wanting to avoid issues with Tywin Lannister. 

“Well they aren’t here to put a stop to it” Tygett tells Kevan with a defiant tilt to his chin, then he turns to Sansa “I’ll teach you Sansa but you must promise me this—you won’t turn into some Dornish warrior wench hungry for fights or a wildling spear wife from beyond the wall. You will still act with propriety. Or gods help us all from your lady mother and father’s wrath” 

“Aye. I promise Uncle. I’ll only use what I learn for self-defense and only when necessary”

“Good. When do you want to start?” he asks. 

“Next week Uncle? Three times a week if you would.”

“I’ll take one of those three, little lady. I’m a better archer than Tyg. I’ll help you on that one” Gerion smirks and winks at her. 

Kevan only sighs, “Do be careful. And teach her in a private room, not out in the open for all to see. Her chambers if possible”

“Of course Uncle. I would prefer it too—to learn without prying eyes and wagging tongues” Sansa assures the man

“I’ll hold off telling your father about this little lady but if he somehow learns of it—well, you know we’ll have to follow his decision then”

“Aye uncle. I understand”

***

Tywin 

Tywin’s sharp eyes looked at the two children in front of him.

After reaching the capital, he had been inundated with duties to the realm. He did set guards on both his eldest and his heir but had little time to personally observe them himself.

He saw them during meals and took the little windows of opportunity to confirm what his youngest shared with him and by the gods, she is right. Watching intently and knowing what to look for, Cersei does have the beginnings of a sick, strange obsession with Jaime. And it is only worsening the longer he observed them and the longer Jaime remained averse to her presence.

Joanna is currently dining with the Queen Rhaella, her ladies-in-waiting and a few Crownlander ladies so he is left to dine with his children. 

The girl won’t stop touching his son despite the boy’s irritation at her. Seated close to her brother, she kept trailing her fingers on his arms and shoulders as though by accident, kept barging in his personal space and bringing her face close to his and giving him barely concealed come-hither looks entirely disgusting on a face far too young. 

_His daughter._

He ground his teeth and clenched his hands on his fork and knife. 

“Jaime, if you are done with your dinner, leave. I would like a word with your sister”

The boy looked up at him in surprise. He only gave him a cold look and the boy hurriedly got up and left.

He made hand gestures to wave away the servants and the guards and they obeyed him, leaving him alone with his wayward daughter. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked the girl coldly. 

Wide, emerald eyes so like Joanna’s looked at him, “Father?”

“I asked you what you think you’re doing Cersei”

Fear crossed her young face at his words and her mouth quivered, “I don’t… I don’t know what you mean father”

“Do you think me a fool? Do you think me blind to what it is you’re attempting with your brother?”

Her mouth slacked, her face paled and her eyes darted guiltily away. 

“You will stop whatever madness has taken over your senses this instant. Do you hear me? In three moons, I shall have guards accompany you back to the West. I shall be making arrangements for you to foster under Lady Alyssane Lefford. You will learn under her and you will take this time to grow up and stop making a fool of yourself and our house. Do you understand, girl?”

“But father! I—” the girl dared to voice out a protest. 

Tywin slammed his dinner knife on the table hard in anger and she jolted on her seat. 

“Silence! I had thought bringing you here to the capital would open your eyes to your possible future and make you take things more seriously but what do you do? Wasted this opportunity and start acting like a degenerate wanton to your own brother. I have spilled barrels of sweat and blood to drag our house to the heights it is now and I will not let a child of mine tarnish my legacy. You will behave. You will not cause our house to be the subject of laughter and ridicule. You will do as I command without a single protest or gods help you, daughter or not, I will make you regret it. Do you understand?”

The girl bowed her head and made herself look small but it had no effect on him

“I asked you a question girl—do you understand?”

“Yes father” was her whispered reply.

***

Genna 

“Well what does it say?” Genna asked with a raised brow.

“It says they’re turning here—Mother, Jaime and Cersei, that is” her young niece’s brows furrowed in confusion as she read the letter from Tywin once more then gave it to Genna’s waiting hand.

“Something unexpected must have happened then” Genna muttered while she read the letter herself.

“Father didn’t send you any raven Aunt? Uncle Kevan?” the little lady asked.

“No, he didn’t” Kevan also had his brows knitted together.

“Well, no use over speculations now. They’ll be here in a fortnight. Joanna can then answer us why they’re returning six moons early” Genna shrugged.

***

“Jaime, tell me please, what happened at Kingslanding?”

Confused emerald eyes looked at Sansa, “What do you mean? I wrote about all the interesting things that happened to you San”

“What happened to mother there? Did she and father fight? Is that why you all returned here at the Rock six moons early? You were supposed to be there for a year with father. That’s what he told me”

“I don’t know San. She and father looked fine when we left the capital”

“Mother always looks sad now Jaime. Something must have happened. Think brother please, did something unexpected or unusual happen while you were there?” Sansa persisted.

Jaime ‘s brows scrunched as he struggled to remember. Sansa tried to wait patiently.

“Nothing happened except for when mother fell ill ah… around a moon ago maybe?”

“What was her ailment?”

The boy shruged, “I don’t know. Only father and Grandmaester Pycelle were allowed to see her for about a fortnight. That’s it. That’s all I know”

“Alright. Thank you brother”

***

Sansa surreptitiously observed Joanna Lannister while plucking the strings on her custom-made harp. 

Though the woman still looks beautiful and well-put together, Sansa picked up immediately that something’s wrong with her. Gone was the light in her eyes. Gone was the quiet contentment. The woman has busied herself in taking over the duties Sansa was entrusted with but there were moments when she’d just looked haunted or… went away inside herself. 

After hearing from Jaime and the servants that came home with them of an unexplained ailment, Sansa came to conclude what exactly happened.

Rape or some kind of assault. 

She’s seen that look several times in the eyes of the few women who attended petitions and asked for her help in getting justice for rape. She’s seen that in the mirror too, in her past life. 

There were rumors in her past life that Mad King Aerys coveted Tywin Lannister’s beautiful wife. And in this new life, there are also rumors floating in the Rock that Aerys tried to reintroduce the practice of First Night during Tywin and Joanna’s wedding and that he made cruel japes about her breasts after giving birth. 

Almost everyone has heard of Tywin Lannister’s name and most fear his reputation as ender of two great houses. None would be foolish to cross him. 

_Except for the king_.

A mad king. A man who she’s certain thinks everything is his to take and everyone is his to torment. He’s also the only man Tywin cannot kill outright. 

Sansa’s hands clenched at the thought of another woman assaulted by a mad monarch. 

And she’s sure the damned kingsguards played their role. Who else are stupid and loyal enough to do what their king tells them to do? 

_Is this why you ordered the sacking of Kingslanding and the gruesome deaths of Elia Martell and her children? Not just to put your family on the throne but to exact payment for a debt done to you by the Mad King?_


	7. Sansa

Sansa 

Everything was beautiful. And oh so tragic.

The red and gold silk brocade gown. The elaborate necklace with its emerald pendant to match the color of her closed eyes underneath the stone. The profusion of flowers—of lilies for innocence and red roses for love, forget-me-nots and rosemary for remembrance and yellow chrysanthemums and rue and crimson roses for sorrow.

The sarcophagus with its detailed sculpture of lions rampant on the sides and the seven-pointed star of the Faith of the Seven on top.

The catacomb carved on the wall beneath the bowels of the Rock where the sarcophagus was going to be interred was beautifully designed too. 

Only the best for Joanna Lannister—wife and love of the life of Tywin Lannister. 

Despite knowing this is how it ends and though she didn’t feel the same crushing grief she did when she heard that the Freys cut Catelyn Stark’s throat to the bone and threw her in the river, Sansa still mourned. She didn't think herself capable of mourning for a Lannister but yes, she's found herself doing it for one. 

Joanna Lannister was a beautiful and kind woman and a good mother. She was not the mother Sansa wanted but she mothered her all the same. She fed Sansa at her own breast (disgusting though it was), guided her with gentle hands when she was learning to walk again, talked to her in a warm, soothing voice, showered her with praises for every little thing she achieved no matter that Sansa’s independence hurt her at times. 

And now she’s gone, taking with her many precious things that comforted and provided security in many small ways—leaving behind all the people who loved her now forever changed. 

Jaime who is still an innocent boy who dreams of great deeds and honor now has no mother and is left with a cold, demanding father

Tyrion who is just a babe who will forever have to endure the deformity he’s born with and carry the blame of the death of his mother. Who will grow up (not as tall, but grow he will) doing his best to impress the man he will call father—the man who’ll never see him as his son but as the murderer of the woman he loved and lost.

She looked surreptitiously around at the people in the small assembly.

Kevan looked solemn as she’s ever seen him. Tygett wore a grimace and clearly wanted to leave. Gerion, for once, did not have the familiar jesting gleam in his eyes. Genna just looked tired.

Cersei was beautiful in a crimson gown but her face twisted in pain and her cheeks wet with tears. Her eyes though showed rage.

And at the center of it all…

Tywin Lannister stood like a monolith. His hands clasped firmly behind his back. Dark and cold and unmoving. Like a mountain in the middle of a storm.

She can’t see his face clearly but she knows it will be that of a man who’s happiness has turned to ashes in his mouth and doing his damned best to project to the world nothing but strength.

Sansa closed her eyes when she felt Jaime’s trembling hands clutched hers tight, his sobs of misery low and guttural.

With a sense of foreboding, she felt as though the world has suddenly shifted and everything would no longer be the same. Time, she’s almost certain, was going to start moving fast forward now. 


	8. Sansa/Tywin

Sansa 

Sansa listened quietly as the cocky and flamboyant Prince of Dorne regaled she and Jaime of tales of their journey from Sunspear to Starfall, to the Arbor, Oldtown, the Shield Islands, Crakehall and now Casterly Rock—and the many mischiefs and jests he made of all of his sisters suitors.

“And then he farted while laughing at the dinner table”, Oberyn cheekily said of Baelor Hightower, “and now will forever be known as Baelor Breakwind” then laughed loud at his own jest.

_Oh sweet summer prince, if you only knew what your careless jape cost you, your sister and your house. The possible happiness your careless cruelty robbed from your beloved sister._

Sansa gave a small smile out of politeness. Jaime sniggered from beside her while the lovely and graceful Princess Elia covered her smiling lips with a dainty hand.

“Hush Oberyn, you really mustn’t tell that tale to anyone you meet. You’ll tarnish Lord Baelor’s reputation”

“But it was so funny! Oh if you two had been there, you’d have also laughed at how red his face was… no, no—it wasn’t just red, it was crimson! Poor Baelor Breakwind, he almost had steam coming out his ears of embarrassment” the young prince laughed again and almost bent over in his mirth.

Sansa only met Prince Oberyn once in her other life—during the wedding that saw Joffrey dead from Littlefinger’s and the Queen of Thorn’s plot. The Prince looked almost the same as he did now. Dark hair, dark eyes. Tall, slender and graceful but athletic. With the same quick tongue, cheeky smiles and overall irreverent attitude.

Princess Elia Martell on the other hand, despite having the same hair and eye color, is lovely and infinitely more gentle and soft-spoken than her brother.

It’s all so surreal to Sansa—meeting one of the victims who suffered the most from the consequences of Targaryen, Stark, Lannister and Baratheon actions during the rebellion. Here in front of her is the woman Rhaegar dishonored and threw away like unwanted trash—whose children he bastardized. The woman Lyanna Stark, in her youthful foolishness and selfishness, sought to usurp. The woman whose rape and murder along with her innocent children Tywin Lannister saw as his stepping stone. The woman whose gruesome death Robert Baratheon saw as victory and celebrated.

Getting to know her in just a few days, Sansa felt torn for Elia Martell.

On one hand, the woman does not deserve to be married again to the selfish and foolish Targaryen Prince and possibly have the same fate. On the other, Elia Martell is the only highborn woman she knows at present fitting and deserving to be Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Cersei certainly isn’t. Lyanna Stark, Catelyn Tully, Lysa Tully—with her knowledge of Stark and Tully families, all three are also unfit to take a crown.

But the Martells and Dorne currently has no clear role in her plans. She didn’t have enough knowledge of its houses and ruling families that well and most of all, she is highly wary of Doran Martell. The then ruling Prince of Dorne of her past was said to be a very clever and cautious man and refused to lift a finger unless it clearly benefited Dorne. Sansa is not sure he is an ally she can fully trust and depend on.

There were other things to consider too—like geography, wealth and military strength. The Kingdom in the Sands is too far and has the tendency to isolate itself from the rest of Westeros. The wealth and military strength of Dorne is also something she can’t pin her plans on, considering Targaryen strongholds like the Reach, the Crownlands and some of the Stormlands lie directly north of Dorne. She was biased maybe, but there are clearly far more pressing concerns that needed to be addressed and more useful allies to connect with—like the North, the Riverlands and Vale.

Cersei though… that's one move to play, a pawn to push on the board, but it’s a risk she refused to make. And at this too early stage, she’s not confident in her influence on Tywin Lannister yet, especially with his current terribly dark moods over Joanna’s death.

“So when can we meet the imp? Is he truly as monstrous as we were told he is?” Prince Oberyn’s voice broke her thoughts.

“The imp is my baby brother Prince Oberyn and his name is Tyrion” she told the prince in a polite tone but made sure he understood she didn’t appreciate his mockery.

Princess Elia gave her brother a chastising look then turned to her, “Apologies for my younger brother Lady Sansa. We try our best to have him learn manners but as you can see, it hasn’t taken effect yet”

“Apologies accepted Princess” she told the princess with understanding eyes, then turned to the prince, “He is no monster my prince. He’s just a babe with a slightly bigger than normal head, stubby limbs and dual colored eyes of black and green just like I do. He doesn’t have fangs nor horns nor tails. Not even claws.”

She’s heard of the stories and grimaced at the utter foolishness and cruelty of it all. She’s ordered the servants and the guards to ensure such talks do not happen in the Rock and so far her words had been heeded. It’s a boon Cersei has been sent away to foster with the Leffords of Golden Tooth otherwise the stupid and cruel girl would’ve made things very difficult.

The rest of the Seven Kingdoms though—well, word has already spread and everyone has taken the opportunity to mock Tywin Lannister and make japes of his misfortune, the incompetent king on the Iron Throne being the most vocal of all. 

“Well, that’s certainly disappointing. And here I thought I’d see something exotic” the prince pouted and Sansa had the urge to slap the expression away from his face.

“Oberyn, that’s quite enough brother. Do be more polite of our hosts. They’re still grieving from the loss of an important person in their lives. The last thing they need is an inconsiderate guest” Elia rebuked her brother.

Such a kind, well-mannered woman. She can’t imagine how a man could hurt or betray her. But then again—everywhere in the world, they hurt women and girls.

***

Tywin 

“Cersei? You’ve agreed to betroth Cersei to Prince Oberyn father?” his youngest daughter asked in surprise.

“Yes. It’s the best thing to do for her and most beneficial for House Lannister. She’ll be a royal, a princess and will tie us with House Martell but she’ll not have enough power or importance to make a terrible mess of things. And if she continues with her…deviant inclination, then Dorne’s reputation for licentiousness can be dismissed as the source of it, their own proclivities enough to cover it. She’ll also be far enough away and will have less influence to drag our House with her to the ground”

He watched as the girl nodded in understanding then looked him calmly in the eye, “And Jaime and I? Who are we to marry in your plans father?”

He gave the girl a pleased look. It's good to know she's expecting to do her duty. 

“There’s the Stark girl and Hoster Tully has two. If not, I will find someone fitting from among daughters of our banner men. He has plenty to choose from. As for you, you will be Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and you will bear an heir with Lannister blood who’ll sit on the Iron Throne”

The girl paled and swallowed then spoke in a calm, soft voice, “I don’t want to be queen father”

Tywin almost saw red, anger and disappointment in his chest. The only thing that stopped him from shouting was the knowledge that the child has never once acted like a silly chit. 

But his child. The one he holds most precious. The crown jewel of House Lannister and the West—refusing to do her duty and role in his legacy! Refusing a crown!

“I had thought you wise and understanding of your duty and role in our family, but here you are proving me wrong. You dare refuse a crown and the position of most powerful woman in the Seven Kingdoms?” he snapped at the child, furious she would refuse what he's planned and hoped for. 

To the girl’s credit, she did not back down and turn craven. Instead, she raised her chin and looked at him with solemn blue and green eyes, “You are Hand, father and yet people say you are more powerful than the king. So tell me, do you really think a crown gives you power? Do you also believe Queen Rhaella is powerful?”

He felt his anger simmered down a bit at the too rational and pointed questions. He had to give it to her—her words were true enough.

He looked at his child intently again and saw a resolve he’s never seen in her before—a resolve he’s seen in very few men. The child is a rational thinker. He decided to let her speak and listen.

“I know about mother. About what happened to her in the capital. You would still command me to go along with your plans and marry the son of the man who did that to mother?”

Tywin reflexively clenched his hand and narrowed his eyes at the girl too clever for her own good, “How did you know this?”

“I’ve handled enough petitions from women asking for justice father. Seen enough of their faces to recognize it. You told me they were to stay with you at the capital for a year and yet you sent them home six moons early. Something clearly didn’t go according to plan, and mother, though she tried hard—I still noticed it. And I know enough to realize none would dare do that to her for fear of you. None but the man who sits on the Iron Throne”

Tywin breathed deep and with a stony voice gave his command, “You will never speak of what happened to your mother ever again, do you understand?”

The girl nodded quietly.

“Prince Rhaegar is different from his father. He is calm and known to be gentle and kind. The hope of House Targaryen” he told the girl calmly, willing her to see things his way. 

“You were friends with his father in your childhood. How long before that friendship turned sour and his attitude changed? How long until Rhaegar also changed?” the girl quickly retorted, which irritated him. 

“By the time he does, you should already have an heir and a spare to secure the throne”

_Aerys and Rhaegar can both be taken care of once an heir or two are secured. That I’d be glad to see to._

“And you hold the future and can guarantee I will give birth to healthy Targaryen babes? Father, Rhaegar is a product of an incestuous marriage between brother and sister. His mother is known to be sickly and is having problems birthing more children. His grandparents were siblings too. Like Queen Rhaella, Jahaerys II was known to be sickly, pale and frail too. What if I only give birth to deformed and dead Targaryen babes? What if continuous failed pregnancies destroy me? My body? Or is that a risk you want me to take?”

Imploring eyes from a too young face looked at him and his face softened a little. Joanna’s death on the birthing bed, the imp’s deformity, poor Rhaella’s face and body and the many dead babes she pushed out of her abused womb—images of them all came to mind. Imagining his beautiful, bright daughter suffer the same fate—no, it is not a fate he would willingly throw his youngest to.

“If not the Prince, then who do you have in mind? Who, in your wisdom, is a better match for you, hm?” he truly was curious what his daughter was thinking.

“A Stark of Winterfell” was the girl’s solemn reply.

A bit surprised, Tywin snorted derisively, “A poor, unwashed Northerner? From a barren land? That’s what you came up with?”

The impudent girl dared to look at him with disappointment in her eyes, as though calling him a fool.

“Father, the Starks were kings of old. They ruled for eight thousand years, their line unbroken. Their banner men loyal only to them unlike other southern houses. Their territory vast, more than a third of the Seven Kingdoms and yet to be exploited. Their wealth is not equal to those in the south that is true, but only because they have neither the tools nor the manpower to extract their rich resources. But even with what they have, the West stands to benefit—lumber and timber to supply our shipyards and strengthen our navy. I heard Ned Stark has also started fostering in the Vale under Lord Arryn, along with the Baratheon heir, as I’m sure you already know. And if Jaime marries Lord Hoster’s eldest, then we will be on a bloc more powerful than the king’s. The king who is taking great pleasure in making a mockery of you father. Who will most likely refuse to marry his heir to me just to humiliate you and our house”

Tywin’s jaw clenched. Of course he thought of the possibility of Aerys denying him simply to mock him. He’d be an utter fool not to. But to hear it given voice by his youngest child—and to hear her say the same ideas he already thought of…the same choices he considered…

Perhaps it is time to cut his losses while he can and spare his House the humiliation and see to other arrangements. 


	9. Sansa/Rickard

Sansa 

“San! Can you believe it?! The Blackfish San! The famous Blackfish! A hero during the War of the Ninepenny Kings. It’s said he’s one of the best fighters in all the lands. Good enough to be kingsguard. And I get to squire for him! Not with boring Lord Crakehall thank the gods. Oh I can’t wait!”

Sansa watched amused as the boy paced and gesticulated his excitement. Overflowing with enthusiasm, the boy couldn’t sit or stand still.

Yes she's known for moons now.

Tywin Lannister has been making clandestine moves since their talks about betrothals. He’s sent Kevan and Genna as emissaries to Riverrun to negotiate a more favorable trade agreement than the one they have with the Tyrells which was set to expire in a year. They were also tasked to take measure of Catelyn and Lysa—a marriage proposal prepared on hand and to be offered only if one of them proved worthy.

It had been a great gamble that had her tense for almost two moons. She hadn’t been sure if her grandfather Rickard had already offered to betroth Brandon to Catelyn—there had been no news. When the two returned to the Rock with a successful trade agreement and a positive evaluation of Catelyn Tully and a betrothal underway, Sansa heaved a great sigh of relief. 

She also knows Tywin had trusted riders deliver letters by hand to the Lord of Winterfell. There were no responses received yet. She’s on tenterhooks for weeks now waiting for development on this important venture. 

Jaime was initially supposed to squire for Lord Sumner Crakehall but with his betrothal to Catelyn in the works, it’s been agreed he’s to squire for her great uncle Brynden instead. In three moons, they’ll be travelling to Riverrun with Kevan and Genna to finalize the agreement and so Jaime could start with his new role. She asked to go with them so she could see Riverrun for herself and meet the Tullys. Tywin had approved her request with a command to make her own observation of Catelyn and take note of what else needed to be addressed to make her a more worthy lady of Casterly Rock. Not that she has any plans of hindering the betrothal. 

It had been a bitter realization—one that was built stone by stone over the years: If they are to win the Long Night, history cannot repeat. And to ensure it does not, changes were necessary.

_I might never see them again._

The North is the most important piece. It must be prepared and it must have alliances it could trust and depend on when the crucial time comes. 

She cannot change everything. She cannot do anything overt regarding King Aerys. She doesn’t have concrete plans for him. She’s too afraid to even be near him. 

Since she cannot influence the (crazy) Targaryen side, she resolved to work on the Lannister, Stark and Tully side. 

The Lannister movements so far are according to her plans. Her influence on Tywin is stronger than before. Jaime is her loyal follower and protector. Tyrion is an innocent, worshipping babe at her feet. Cersei is far away, her fangs and claws not as sharp as they could be. 

The Starks… She can influence, manipulate or try to put them on a leash (for their own good and survival). Careless and foolish Lyanna. Honorable and stupid and ignorant Lord Rickard and Ned Stark. Brash Brandon and his band of idiots. And Catelyn Tully too. Along with (slimy vermin) Littlefinger and love-thirsty (and mad) Lysa. 

And her mother… Catelyn being married to House Stark won’t help.

Her father and mother’s marriage had done the North no good—this truth she’s come to realize and swallowed hard. She loved them, she missed them but they made terrible mistakes that got them killed—got many people killed. 

For all the ridiculous number of times they said _Winter is Coming,_ she found it truly ironic and foolish they hadn’t prepared their children to the harsh realities of the world. They hadn’t done anything to address the northern division (Bolton, Dustin, Ryswell vs Stark power bloc)—one that greatly contributed to the doom of House Stark and disunity among northern houses and saw them scrambling like headless chickens when the Long Night came. They were ignorant of Southern affairs, blind to the dangers and traps set by other players of the game and made hasty, terrible decisions that ended in devastating tragedies. 

It wasn’t all their fault, she knows. They did what they thought best with the limited knowledge and options they had.

But good intentions don’t simply produce good results.

_And Winter Truly Is Coming._

***

Rickard 

Rickard read the letter once more before dropping it on the table. He stood up and went to the window overlooking the yard where Brandon was fighting with Ser Rodrik, Lyanna watching and hollering on the side like a wildling. He watched as Brandon skillfully twisted his blade to disarm the knight and felt pleased once more of his heir’s skills. 

If only the boy would devote equal enthusiasm to learning his lordly duties. That would make him even more pleased. 

He thought once more of the letter burning on his table. 

_How very curious. Very curious indeed. The great and feared Tywin Lannister seeking my son for his precious daughter._

He wondered if the volatile relationship between the Hand and the King he served has gone so terrible that the Great Lion is now seeking alliances. He'd have to consult with Arryn. 

He, Jon Arryn and Hoster Tully have been corresponding for a few years now, covertly coming up with several proposals to strengthen their alliance. Ned’s fostering in the Vale is a result of these talks. There were marriage proposals put on the table: Brandon and Lady Catelyn, Elbert and Lady Lysa, Robert Baratheon and Lyanna and many others—but none had made a final decision yet, all of them playing a waiting game. Holding out for better options, greater opportunities, more beneficial outcomes.

But now the lion has made his move and the ambitious trout swallowed the bait.

_A lioness for House Stark. A pretty thing and a clever one at that (if the few rumors that trickled North are to be believed, that is)._

It’s not a bad proposal. In fact it’s a beneficial one. More beneficial than Hoster Tully's in truth. The solid might of the West. The mountains of gold shat by House Lannister. A favorable trade for Northern timber and lumber. Tywin Lannister. 

His banner men though will surely see different. But his banner men are far too comfortable in their seats and paying ignorance to the southern threat—the Targaryen threat. 

Every generation fighting wars and suffering losses because of the cruel or weak or incompetent leadership of dragons. Weak and indecisive Aenys. Cruel Maegor. Aegon II the Usurper and Rhaenyra who plunged the realm in the devastating Dance of Dragons. Addlebrained zealot Baelor. Aegon the Unworthy whose lust and stupidity spawned Five Blackfyre rebellions spread across sixty years. Warmonger Daeron the Young Dragon. And now Aerys II. The rest are of mediocre accomplishments and few worthy of being called good. Jahaerys the Conciliator the only one truly great.

_How many more bad and worse and truly terrible until enough is enough?_

_There’s still Ned and Benjen to soften the blow._

_It’s a good choice and Winter is Coming._


	10. Sansa/Jaime

Sansa 

Sansa panted as she leaned on the wall, her trembling hand let the short sword fall on the floor.

“Come on girl, one more round” Tygett urged.

“Just a moment uncle” she groaned, “I just   
need to catch my breath”

“Your enemy isn’t going to give you a break. Come now”

“I’m not talking to an enemy right now. I’m talking to you, one of my favorite uncles”

“Ha! Not going to work on me girl. You promised you won’t complain. Come on. Pick up your sword. Let’s try that technique once more.”

Sansa took deep breaths and picked up the sword.

“There’s a girl. Good. Now, remember, the trick is in the momentum of your opponent. Capitalize the odd angle after he thrusts and your counterattack will have greater success.”

She again took up the stance Tygett showed her two weeks ago and on they went. Thrust. Parry. Twist. Counterattack.

She’s been training with Tygett, Gerion and sometimes Kevan, for more than a year now.

She’ll never be half the warriors Robb, Jon and Arya were. Even compared to the budding genius of the young Jaime, her skill with the sword is barely half decent. Her blocks are good but her offensive moves were terrible. Piss poor Tygett called it with a sneer six moons ago. But she’s getting better, Tygett said. Slow, but she’s learning, improving. And the man refused to stop until she’s decent and capable of effectively defending herself and able to kill an enemy or two. She’s thankful for his patience and determination to see her succeed.

Her archery though—she’s proud to say she’s excellent at it. Even with moving targets. A fact that Gerion takes pride in and always used to boast and make japes about Tygett’s teaching style.

When Tywin came to know about the lessons just a few days after Joanna’s death, she’d feared he’d put a stop to them. Upon catching her having sword practice with Tygett though, he merely nodded for them to continue while he stood and watched in silence then eventually left them after around an hour. She suspected Joanna’s rape and assault played a huge role in him not putting a stop to her lessons.

“Alright, that’s better. We’ll work on it more next session. Come on, cool down” Tygett took her sword and she tiredly went through the stretches and breathing exercises he taught her too.

“I talked to your father about getting a Braavosi water dancer for you”

Sansa turned her head so fast she almost had a whiplash. _Braavosi Water Dancing. That had been Arya’s style_!

“I’ve talked about it with Gerion. He’s seen a few water dancers before so he knows better than I. He agrees it will be a lot more effective for your build and body type. We will continue your lessons with me while your father searches for one though”

“If that’s what you think is better uncle, then it’s fine for me” she nodded in acceptance.

_My sister. It’ll be a reminder of my sister. Something I'll share with her. Hopefully it works for me too._

***

“Here they are my lady” Myra, one of the women who oversaw the orphanage located on the northern part of Lannisport gave a bow and presented the five youths behind her. Three boys and two girls. They all had forgettable faces and looked to be aged between ten and two and ten. Good.

“Thank you Myra, you may return to your work now”  
The woman bowed again and left.

Sansa looked at Genna first who only nodded then turned her attention to each of the five youths who were all looking back at her in amazement.

“Please have a seat” she pointed to the vacant chairs around the small table laden with food that she and Genna occupied. They followed her command in a hurry, almost tripping on their own feet. Once they were all seated, they all turned their heads to her.

“I have heard from Myra and the other caretakers that the five of you are the ones most excelling in your lessons? I have a proposal—a task. One that will see you paid with coin. But first, let’s eat and talk. I’d like to get to know you all first. How about it?” she looked each of them in the eye and smiled.

The youths all smile back at her, eyes admiring and excited at the prospect of working for her and House Lannister.

***

Jaime 

Jaime rolled his neck and groaned in relief then sat on the bed to take off his boots. They just arrived not a few hours ago in Riverrun. They’ve met with the Tullys and have just finished partaking of the bread and salt for Guest Right. They’re currently in their assigned accommodations taking a rest after the long and tiring journey.

“So, what do you think?” his little sister looked at him from her seat on the window overlooking the slow-moving waters of the Trident, a teasing glint in her dual-colored eyes.

Jaime rolled his eyes and huffed. He knows what she’s truly asking about but pretended not to “The castle’s pretty enough, but it won’t beat the Rock. I like the river and the vast green fields too. I can swim anytime I want and ride for miles on end without worrying for my horse stepping on sharp, pointy rocks or falling on cliffs”

Sansa scrunched her nose then smiled, “Hm. Not effective deflection. It’s not the castle I'm asking about brother but the lady—your lady. What do you think about her?”

Jaime felt his cheeks and ears flush then whispered, “She’s uh… she’s pretty enough, I think. I like her hair and eyes. Almost like yours” then grimaced, “But San, she looked so prim and proper. I don’t…I don’t know how to talk to her. What if I say something stupid? Help me.”

“Calm down. You’ll definitely say the stupidest things if you keep worrying about it. Start with simple things brother. Like her family. Her favorites things to do. Her favorite places and if she can show them to you. The Riverlands and its people. And always listen carefully to what she tells you. From her answers, you can ask more questions to keep the conversation going. If you find the topic boring, then don’t pretend to like it. It will just get more difficult to continue talking if you’re not interested. Ask something different. And always give her a compliment, girls like that.”

“Compliment? Like what?”

“Her beauty and her dress when you meet her in the morning—but don’t overdo it. Compliment the stitches or design or color and how it matches with her hair or eyes. Compliment her mind when she tells you something important or something new and you haven’t heard about before. Her wits if she tells you something funny”

Jaime groaned and fell on the bed, “Why can’t I just squire with the Blackfish far from here? We could tour the lands, fight bandits and catch outlaws. Sleep under the stars or stay at inns and not have to deal with… with silly girls!”

His sister only gave an unladylike snort “Jaime, squiring for the Blackfish isn’t just about you learning from him. It’s also about the Tullys getting to know you. Especially Lady Catelyn. So exert effort in interacting with their family. And be polite about it. Don’t be cocky or insulting, you hear me? Think before you open your mouth. Ask yourself this, is what I’m about to say going to cause offense? If the answer is yes or probably then don’t say it at all”

Jaime groaned once more, “I really wish you'd been born first. And as a male. You’d make a far better heir than I. Father would’ve liked it very much. I’m sure. And I would’ve been happy being a second son serving as your guard or leading your army. I won’t have to marry like the Blackfish”

“Hm… that is true” she smiled teasingly at him, an adorable smug smirk on her face before she turned serious once more “but nothing good ever comes from hopeless wishing. We have to work and do our best with what we have”

“You really should stop sounding like father San. And don’t teach Tyrion to talk like that. It’s weird. And annoying. Very annoying.”

“You just don’t like being reminded of father. Well, enjoy it brother. You’ll miss my words of wisdom when we leave you here and I’m faraway, at the Rock”

Jaime laughed at the cheeky response and reached for a stuffed pillow to throw at her.

***

“So it IS true. You really have two colored eyes. Green and blue. Like Shiera Seastar!” Lysa gasped, fascinated blue eyes staring at Sansa.

“I didn’t believe the rumors too Lady Sansa. It sounded impossible. But now that I see it—it looks strange, yes, but beautiful too” Catelyn smiled at her.

“Thank you my lady” Sansa smiled politely back, trying very hard not to gawk at her mother’s young face so close to hers. The two Tullys have asked permission to look at her strange eyes up close.

“And red hair! Like us. I thought Lannisters are all blonde. It's strange. Why do you have red hair?” Lysa spoke up again, voice full of curiosity.

_Oh if only you knew._

“My grandmother—my father’s mother that is—she was a Marbrand. And Marbrands usually have copper and auburn hairs.”

“Hm…Your brother is all Lannister. How about the Imp? I heard he’s got two-colored eyes too!”

“Lysa! Manners.” Catelyn hissed and gave her sister a sharp look, “Behave yourself.”

It was all strange and terribly poignant and Sansa had struggled the first few times she spoke with them.

She had hated Lysa when she met her in the Eyrie. That Lysa had been negligent and mad and murderous. She had fooled herself and enabled Littlefinger so much and contributed to so many of his crimes.

The Lysa in front of her looks very innocent. The girl is pretty, with bright blue eyes, quick to smile and is less prim than her older sister.

Here is another living proof of just how toxic and destructive Littlefinger was. Another reason why he must be removed.

Her mother Catelyn, on the other hand looked like her past younger self. Red hair, blue eyes. All prim and proper and lady-like. (Sansa is thankful she has different colored eyes, gold in her hair and retained her pale northern skin. Otherwise, with her old self’s features put side by side with Catelyn’s, many tongues would’ve gone wagging and creating problems left and right.) She's quick to chastise her younger sister too like Sansa had been to Arya. No wonder Lysa became very bitter at her. Even without Littlefinger, Sansa is certain the two sisters' relationship is bound to sour if Catelyn continues with her strict adherence to manners. 

She had thought that seeing her mother again, decades young though she was, would open the box where she stored all her grief and heartache and leave her a blubbering mess. She was wrong. All she feels now is some sort of…numbness, a distance—as though she’s seeing her through a hazy glass. A cut once deep and fatal but has scarred and grown old and no longer painful. It’s disconcerting but at the same time, it gave her a measure of relief.

With her mother’s younger face and Lysa’s enthusiasm, the scene reminded her of Arya and she when they were still young and she wasted her time arguing with her sister over propriety instead of making peace with her and working on their relationship.

“It’s alright my lady” she assured Catelyn then turned to Lysa, “Tyrion, that’s my little brother’s name my lady. I would appreciate it if you'd use it. And yes, he has one green and the other black eye. And before you ask, he looks similar to other babes, only with a little larger head and shorter limbs. No additional limbs like tails or horns”

Catelyn and Lysa both blushed then smiled awkwardly at her.

“Rumors really cannot be believed all the time. The lies and unbelievable things people come up with. Ridiculous! My apologies for your brother. He doesn’t deserve such harsh words” Catelyn offered her sympathy.

“Thank you my lady. Tell me, does your father or uncle have other squires or fosterlings?”

She hasn’t noticed Littlefinger’s smarmy face inside the castle yet.

Lysa just shrugged but Catelyn looked thoughtful.

“Father said something about fostering a war friend’s son. He’s from the Vale I think” Catelyn said after a short while.

“And when is this fosterling going to arrive?”

“Within moons. I am not entirely sure Lady Sansa”

“I see. You’ll both look after my brother when we leave him in your uncle’s care, won’t you? Jaime—he's a bit careless and sometimes cocky for his own good. But he is kind and loyal. I don’t want him hurt or put in danger. Promise me you two will be his friend and watch out for him?”

“Of course we will” the two chorused.

***

The dinner meal was coming to a close when conversation picked up once more.

“How are your accommodations so far Lady Alysanne? It's not Casterly Rock but I hope Riverrun and the Riverlands are providing enough entertainment and has not bore you?” Hoster Tully’s calculating blue eyes were focused on her.

Sansa cannot remember meeting her grandfather in the previous life. He had been a sickly, old man bound to his bed then. And had died in the middle of the War of Five Kings.

The Lord Hoster Tully she's facing now though—everything about the man made Sansa feel as though she’s facing a less bloodthirsty variant of Tywin Lannister. Like Tywin, Hoster Tully is broad and tall and has a very commanding presence. The same fiercely proud stance, the same calculating looks and without a doubt the same ambitious heart.

Looking at the man, Sansa had a sudden terrible thought that this might be where Littlefinger learned his calculating ways from—at her grandfather’s feet. And time has made of them a full circle. A terrible one. From her grandfather to Littlefinger then her. Justice and vengeance the cruel gods has seen fit to serve.

“Lady Sansa if you would my lord, thank you. It’s the name I’m used to. And your home is beautiful Lord Tully. I find the calm very soothing. And your daughters too my lord. They’re both lovely companions. I am glad to meet them”

“Hm. That is good to hear. When I heard Tywin Lannister’s youngest daughter who I heard some rumors about is to be my guest, I admit, I had been curious. I first met your Father during the war and again met him several times along with your Lady Mother in the capital when he became Hand. You are a great beauty that I can see, but you take little from them my lady”

Genna laughed from her side, “That is because she takes much from her grandmother, our mother, the late Lady Jeyne, in appearance. But she is Tywin's Lord Tully, of that you can be sure of”

“Indeed. How true are the rumors I’ve heard that she has tasted holding the helm of the Rock already?”

Catelyn’s eyes snapped to hers while Lysa remained ignorant and kept on eating. Jaime too, kept on stuffing his mouth.

The Blackfish and his Lord Brother though remained looking at her.

“Only in part my lord, I had my Uncles and Aunt Genna guiding me all the while. So in truth I didn’t take the helm all on my own and it was only for a very short while anyway” Sansa downplayed the rumor.

“Still, to not flinch in the face of leadership and duty at a very young age—a commendable act of courage my lady”

Sansa tried not to squirm on her seat at the discomfort the appraising cunning eyes of the Lord of Riverrun is giving her, “Thank you my lord”


	11. Kevan/Jaime/Rickard

Kevan 

“Prince Viserys of House Targaryen, reportedly a hale and hearty babe. Finally, a spare for the house of dragons” his young niece muttered, breaking the monotonous silence in the solar.

Kevan looked up, pausing in his reading of the batch of reports from both the capital and patrols along the Gold Road. “A good thing for the crown. The line of succession is stronger than with just one heir”

“Hm, not necessarily. They say when a Targaryen is born, the gods flip a coin and the world holds its breath asking _will it be madness or greatness?_ I say whoever said that is a fool. Just how many Targaryens were truly great?Jahaerys I? Viserys II? Daeron II? There is no coin—there's blood. And the Iron Throne. Incestuous relations recycling the undesirable traits across generations and the temptation of the absolute power of the Iron Throne corrupting it even more. This babe may yet still grow with a corrupt heart and mind filled with desire for that damned ugly chair and foment wars to usurp his brother. And leave the Seven Kingdoms mourning deaths and losses once more”

Kevan smiled in amusement, “Such a pessimist little lady”

The girl only scrunched her face at him, “I’d like to think I am a realist Uncle. The reality is almost always harsh and cruel and ugly. Better to accept that fact and prepare how to counter or change it than to live in ignorance or naiveté and fall a victim or worse dead once you get a taste of it.”

Kevan could only shake his head, feeling fond and bittersweet for the girl in front of him.

“Father says there’s to be a tourney at Highgarden in six moons. The Tyrells grabbed the honor of leading the celebration for the birth of the new prince. No doubt a move to ingratiate themselves to the throne”

“The Tyrells have always been eager to prove themselves worthy of their station—always hungry for recognition” Kevan remarked.

“Hm. Better them wasting their gold than us” the girl grinned, dual colored eyes bright.

“Indeed” he laughed and looked down at the scrolls containing the reports once more.

“What are the reports saying uncle?”

“These cases of banditry occurring between the borders of the Crownlands and the Riverlands seem to be escalating”

“Any word from father about securing our borders to make sure these don’t spill over to western territories?”

“He only commanded I have two battalions prepared for command at any time” Kevan put down the scrolls and looked at her.

“Houses Lydden and Serrett then? It’s easier to deploy from their seats”

“No. Your father wants it to be men from the Rock and House Crakehall. I’ll take care of the arrangements little lady, no need for you to step in”

Sansa nodded, “It’s the increase on tariffs on smaller ports, isn’t it? That's the cause. I imagine smaller ports are suffering and trade in those areas are dwindling”

“You don’t agree with your father on the new tariffs?”

“It is indeed beneficial to large ports like Kingslanding, Oldtown and Lannisport, but I believe it’s only short term. With smaller ports suffering, many trades and industries will also cease in port towns leading to more complications like increased crimes such as banditry, cities swelling with more poor people flocking in from affected areas and worsening living and health conditions. The situation of Flea Bottom and surrounding towns in Kingslanding is already bad enough as it is. It’s also possible small rebellions will break out and might even escalate to something bigger”

“Well, the decree has already been implemented. Let us hope it doesn’t come to that”

“Let’s increase patrol guards in Lannisport Uncle—just to ensure there'll be no problems breaking out if new people come in”

“Yes. I believe that would be best”

***

Jaime 

Jaime narrowed his eyes at the scene in front of him—an ambitious little rat daring to touch a pretty silly trout.

Baelish arrived to foster under Lord Hoster six moons after him. At first, he had wanted to befriend the boy—the two of them being both wards of House Tully. 

But then his little sister told him to act with caution and reminded him of the lessons she gave. She told him to be careful of people he’ll allow in his inner circle as he will be future Lord of the Rock—the land with access to most gold that many are salivating over, always looking for opportunities to grasp Lannister wealth with their grubby hands. 

Little Sansi told him to use his sharp eyes to judge the boy’s character. To take note if the boy is genuine in his interactions with people or not. Whether his eyes are cold or warm when his mouth is smiling or not. Whether he tells complete information or just half and unclear ones. How he looks at the two pretty Tully girls. And she made him promise to report to Lord Tully if the boy tries to take advantage of the girls. Of course he promised. He wants to be a knight to protect women and the innocent and the weak!

He’s thankful his little sister wisely gave him pointers because after almost two years, he’s now certain: Baelish is a rat.

The boy is an irritant. He has a way of turning things in his favor with few casual and sometimes untrue remarks. His eyes are cold when he laughs. He says insults as if they are compliments. And he won’t stop staring at Jaime’s betrothed. But here he is kissing silly Lysa. Why can’t the chit be like his little sister or Cat? 

He walked closer to the two, his two Lannister guards several paces behind him, “What in hells are you doing, little prick?”

Silly Lysa made a sound of protest but he ignored her.

“Just a game Jaime. Nothing for you to concern yourself with. You want to join?” the little rat smiled at him.

Jaime snapped a hand and took hold of the other boy’s weak little arm and almost dragged him, “You will follow me you little prick”

“Jaime! What are you doing?! Stop!” Lysa shrieked and tried to release the rat from his hold.

“Don’t interfere Lysa” he snapped at her. She’s silly more often than not but she’s almost like a sister to him—she’ll be a sister by law when he and Cat gets married. He has to protect her.

“It was just a game. We were just playing. Let Petyr go!” the girl started to cry.

He looked at one of his guards, Ser Lester and gestured to help him get hold of the boy. When Ser Lester had the Baelish boy secured, he faced Lysa and captured her hands swatting at him, “Stop it Lysa. I said stop it. You’re the daughter of the Lord of Riverrun, act more like it”

“We were only playing. Let him go” the girl begged.

“No! I had enough of him always being a smug prick and an irritant. I’m also done with him making eyes at Cat and now trying to kiss you. He wants Cat. He’s only pretending to like you, you silly girl! He’s an ambitious little rat wanting to use you. Now come with me. We’ll talk to your father and have him get rid of the vermin” Jaime then turned around with the girl’s hand clutched in his.

The girl followed meekly behind him, her little hiccups wracking her body and tears streaming down her face.

***

Rickard 

“A tourney! Are we going father? We should. Oh please, say we will go!” Brandon’s loud and excited voice filled the solar.

“Bran’s right father. We should go! Oh to see knights and kingsguards duel! Please. We never saw a tourney yet!”

Lyanna’s eyes were begging at him but it’s his heir he’s more focused on “We will go”

“Oh yes!” the two exclaimed, hands pumped in victory in the air.

He raised a hand to stop them from celebrating and to get them to listen to him. He looked Brandon in the eye, “Remember this, our main reason for going is not the tourney but to meet the Lannisters—especially Lord Tywin and your betrothed Brandon. We will ride for Seaguard and take a ship there to Casterly Rock. We will join them on the way to Highgarden. You two will join me but you will behave. You will comport yourselves with dignity every step of the way. You are Starks of Winterfell, not wildlings from beyond the wall. Do you understand?”

“Yes! Yes father!” Lyanna shouted in joy while Brandon nodded his head, eyes gleaming like a wolf’s. 


	12. Jaime/Rickard/Sansa/Brandon

Jaime 

“Jaime, lad, thank you for watching over Lysa and making sure that odious boy was taken care of. I have told Hoster I didn’t like him myself, but well, the stubborn fool wanted to honor his vow to the boy’s father who was his wartime friend”

The Blackfish patted his shoulder, an act that never failed to make Jaime stand a little taller every time the famous knight gave him words of praise. How could he not be happy? The Blackfish is a childhood hero of his and a great mentor! 

“Lysa is Cat’s little sister Ser. She’ll someday be my sister by law—it was only right I protected her from that little prick. And besides, I made a promise to mine own little sister to watch over the girls. So I did.”

“Did she now? You are very close with that little sister of yours eh? There’s always a raven for you every week” the Blackfish smiled in amusement. 

“Sansa is my closest sibling and my favorite. She’s smart—very smart. She helped me read and write a lot better when even the maester gave up. And she’s always teaching me important things!” Jaime boasted of his sibling.

“A rarity indeed. A male who knows how to listen to female counsel” the Blackfish teased.

Jaime awkwardly shifted on his feet from uncertainty and embarrassment.

“Oh relax lad, it’s a good thing—knowing how to listen to the female sex. Females can be just as wise, if not wiser than men. I myself believe that if more men listened to women, we’d have less wars. They are creatures more prudent and cautious than us males”

Jaime felt more at ease once more, “How is Lysa Ser?”

“The silly girl will live. It’s just a childish and shallow fancy. Someday, she’ll realize the weight of the act you did for her today and she’ll be thankful”

“That’s good. He didn’t deserve her. An ambitious little man from a few acres of rocks, thinking he can use a silly girl. What a fool!” Jaime sneered.

“Aye, that he was. But he’s gone and faraway now. Let’s not waste any more of our breath on him. I’ve got a raven from your father Jaime. There’s a tourney for the new prince Viserys to be had at Highgarden. We’ll ride for Seagard and stop at the Rock and travel with your uncles, sister and the Starks”

Jaime brightened at the news of going home then attending a tourney, “That’s great news Ser. How about Cat? Is she joining us?”

“Aye, she is. Lysa will remain here though. We’re leaving in a sennight lad. Best do your packing early”

“Aye Ser Brynden” Jaime replied with enthusiasm.

He can’t wait to reunite with Sansa and Tyrion.

***

Rickard 

The carrack containing large cargos they managed to get passage from with the help of Lord Jason Mallister of Seaguard was just about to enter the walled city and they were all standing on the upper deck to catch sight of Westeros’ third largest city of Lannisport and the famous Casterly Rock.

“Is that it? The famed Casterly Rock? So high! Even from this far” Brandon commented, eyes on the colossal rock House Lannister calls home.

“It IS high. I heard it’s higher than the Wall and the Hightower. By three times! No wonder Lannisters also think high of themselves. Pray to the old gods the girl you’ll marry is less conceited” Lyanna laughed.

“Lyanna! Watch your mouth. The Lannisters are our hosts. Take care how you speak” Rickard rebuked his daughter with a sharp glance.

Rickard sighed and not for the first time in their journey, he felt he made the wrong decision to take her with them. He has half a mind to leave her as a guest at the Rock instead of taking her to Highgarden. Tis becoming clear the girl is not prepared yet to meet other high lords and ladies of the realm.

Nor his heir it seems. Both their attitudes have gotten tiresome by the day all throughout the journey. Having both her and Brandon in close proximity inside a cramped ship has shown him firsthand just how wild the two are and how bad they feed each other’s foolishness and recklessness.

Brandon’s fostering with the Lord of the Barrowlands has not done him any favors. Instead, it seems his heir has gotten more cocky and careless. Dangerous traits for a future Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. 

_I’ll put an end to his useless warding with the old lord Dustin. Cursed be the wild wolf’s blood. Why did it have to appear in my heir and my daughter? It would’ve been better if it had gone to Ned and Benjen instead. The gods truly are cunts. Even the old ones._

“Yes father” the girl blithely said, eyes already moving on to watch the busy port ahead, “Lannisport. It looks like it’s thrice larger than White Harbor”

Wyman Manderly, the new lord of White Harbor, laughed from beside Rickard, “It’s population is not merely thrice but five times that of White Harbor my lady”

“Really? That’s a huge difference!”

“It is. Kingslanding has about half a million. Oldtown around four hundred thousand. Lannisport around two hundred fifty thousand. Gulltown around sixty to seventy thousand. White Harbor barely reaches fifty thousand”

Brandon whistled, impressed at the figures given. Lyanna kept on observing her new surroundings.

Rickard on the other hand felt bitterness and dissatisfaction once more at the reminder of the reality—of just how disparate conditions are between the North and the rest of the kingdoms.

The difference in population and manpower alone is already staggering. How much more in terms of wealth? And yet, northern houses still look down upon the south when in truth, the North is in much worse condition as things stand. And they’ll truly be left behind in the snow if nothing is done.

He turned his eyes to one of his few attending banner men a few paces from where he stood.

Rodrik Ryswell. Lord of the Rills and Head of House Ryswell. A highly ambitious man with low cunning. A dangerous one. And his pretty and equally ambitious chit of a daughter.

The Lord of the Rills has just recently announced the betrothal of his eldest daughter Bethany to the Bolton heir. He knows the man is also aspiring to see his younger daughter Barbrey as Brandon’s wife and Lady of Winterfell. Rickard’s jaws tightened at the thought.

_What needs would I have of a house of a few hundred horses and men? What fool would choose it over mountains of gold and men and trade and protection of the North should war come? Such short-sighted fools, only thinking of your own petty interests and not the entire North’s. You call me ambitious behind my back as though mine ambition will only serve me and mine. As though your ambition is more noble and beneficial to the many who’ll starve in the face of a long winter. Your narrow-mindedness and selfish desires hidden under your façade of loyalty to the North!_

The Lord of White Harbor though—he looked at Wyman Manderly. There’s a more intelligent man. One who understands exactly how dire things are for the north. Whose eyes are open to the reality of the situation. The support of such man is truly of great importance, one he is thankful and felt great relief for.

And finally he looked to the Lord of Bear Island, his friend Jeor Mormont. The Mormonts may be a small house and not as well-off as others but what they lack in riches, they make up for in strength and loyalty to Winterfell.

***

Sansa 

Sansa felt her hands sweat as she stood front and center of the welcoming party as the regent of the Rock. She was bracketed on both sides by Kevan and Genna. Tygett and Gerion behind her. The rest of the important household staff behind them too.

An outrider had alerted them of the Stark party’s ascent through the enormous cavern of the Lion’s Mouth reaching two hundred feet high. So here they are waiting to welcome their guests.

_Oh but he looks very much like father! And she looks like Arya!_

Those were the first two thoughts that came to mind when Sansa finally saw the Stark party come through the Lion’s Mouth.

Then her eyes were caught by a young man of Stark coloring and features.

_Brandon Stark. No wonder people called father plain. He truly is handsome. But that smirk and arrogant air! Reminds me of Harry Hardyng._

_And…seven hells! Is that Lord Manderly?! So handsome and young! And so fit! Why ever did he let himself get so fat???_

_And—that pinched face. Barbrey Ryswell! The horrid woman who bitterly loved the Wild Wolf they said. Who thought it wise to bring her here? Her father? Is this a move meant to intimidate me? Too bad for you then Lord and little lady Ryswell, I have faced greater foes than you._

She furtively wiped her hands on the skirt of her gown, forced all her emotions down and schooled her expression to a mask of gentility.

Once everyone were dismounted, her grandfather (who looked so much like her father Ned Stark) walked closer to their group, his children on both his sides, his retinue at his back.

She curtseyed when he finally stood in front of her, “Welcome to Casterly Rock, Lord Stark. My lords, my ladies.”

***

Brandon 

“What do you think Bran?” Lya raised her brows teasingly.

“Beautiful. Exotic eyes and glorious hair. But looked too prim and polite. Didn't look capable of breaking glass or killing a cockroach. Boring”

Lya threw her head back in laughter, unladylike chortles coming out his wild sister’s mouth.

“Did you see her face when I asked about the Imp?” Lya broke into giggles again, tears at the corner of her eyes, “oh she looked so surprised then turned rigid. I’m afraid you’re marrying a young and cold Tywin Lannister with tits brother”

“Hush Lya, you should heed father's words a little. This isn’t Winterfell. Who knows if anyone can hear you through the walls”

Brandon gave his sister a sharp glance to which the girl only huffed, “Well, it’s not like they’ll do something about it. They want their little lady Lannister to be the future Lady Stark”

“Perhaps they won’t do anything obvious. But don’t forget: Lannisters always pay their debts.”


	13. Sansa/Rickard

Sansa 

Rickard Stark is very much like Ned Stark with more…ambition and political intellect. However, the man, like most northerners, have stringent notions when it comes to the concept of honor. 

Brandon Stark is, like she initially thought, a Harry Hardyng version or pre-Ramsay Theon version who’ll grow up to be the idiot and wastrel King Robert Baratheon if he’s not taught some discipline—handsome and charming and good with a sword but entitled, cocky, brash and lustful. Less than a sennight and already she’s had two reports of him flirting and trying to tumble two pretty maids. He’ll take a lot of work, of that she is sure. But she’s experienced dealing with more cruel and dangerous men. She’s not afraid to face him. 

Lyanna… Lyanna is an infuriating mix of Arya and her younger self. The girl is naïve and a dreamer like Sansa was before but possessed even worse than Arya’s careless, reckless disregard for rules and propriety. The girl, she fears is far too stubborn and has the dangerous desire of wanting to live in her own terms and make her own rules and damn all the consequences and the rest. 

Barbrey Ryswell is a proud, jealous little witch who thinks highly of herself. She forgets she’s a horse in a lioness' den. 

Lord Rodrik Ryswell is an ambitious, cunning man or so he believes. Poor man. He hasn’t seen anything of the cunning, vicious beasts of the court yet. She hasn’t forgotten how his house, and the Dustin’s through Lady Barbrey, supported the Boltons.

Lord Jeor Mormont is like a northern version of dear Lord Yohn Royce. Honorable and dutiful but not afraid to speak his mind. And a loyal banner man and good friend to her grandfather it seems. 

Lord Wyman Manderly is his charming, cunning self (well, less cunning right now but she can already see he’ll certainly grow into it). She can’t get over how fit and handsome he is yet. When she looks at him, it feels like a fever dream. 

All seven and some of their household knights (she’s seen a younger, handsomer version of old Ser Rodrik Cassel! With his dark curls and less ridiculous beard!) and servants were hosted at the Rock.

She made sure they were provided impressive accommodations, of course. Nothing less from the previous Lady of Winterfell and now the Lady Regent of the Rock. 

She provided them with rooms with the view of Lannisport in the distance and the beautiful Sunset sea. The sun sets most beautifully in the West. The moon over the sea at night is a pretty sight too. She also assigned them her chosen, efficient servants to see to their every need. Servants who served as her eyes and ears. Servants who reported to her the thoughtless, careless things stupid boys do and insults silly girls say about their hosts when they think no one can hear them. 

It seems no matter how much kindness and respect you give, there are just people who are too selfish and stupid for their own good.

***

The long table was full and many have decided to partner up or grouped to make conversations. Her grandfather Rickard and Lord Mormont with her Uncle Kevan conversing about the tariffs, Lord Manderly and Lord Ryswell with Gerion and Genna talked about ports and trade, Tygett and Brandon about knights and wars.

She was sat close to Lyanna and Barbrey. As she planned.

Like a wolf hunting it’s prey. A lioness prepared to pounce. That’s what Sansa felt.

“I am very curious Lady Lyanna, Lady Barbrey, how do young girls spend their time in the North? What favorite activities do northern girls engage in?” she asked the two young women.

“The same activities southern girls do, I suppose” Barbery raised her chin proudly, tone a bit condescending, “like dancing and music. But us northern girls must be of harder breed than southerners, so some also learn riding, archery and hunting. To be helpful and useful to our families and people in other ways and not just to sing and sew and breed heirs. I myself excel in breaking horses”

“Oh I love horses! I’m great at horse riding, people in Winterfell say so. And archery too. I don’t understand why so many girls enjoy useless lessons in sewing and embroidery” Lyanna scrunched her face in distaste.

“I would think a northern girl who lives in a land of heavy snows and cold would know the importance of sewing. It keeps you clothed and warm. And in times of fights, especially war, it is crucial in treating the wounded and saving lives” Sansa remarked evenly.

Lyanna’s jaw slackens for a while then she stubbornly clenched it, “Well it’s not for me” she said in a raised, surly voice.

Some heads turned to them at her loudness. She saw Lord Rickard’s mouth tightened. Sansa bit back a smile.

“I suppose different people have different interests” Sansa nodded, all calm, “How about other lessons? What are ladies of the North taught in their lessons?”

“Some girls are taught household accounting and management and others who don’t have male siblings and are set to inherit after their fathers are even taught in handling petitions and collecting taxes and rents from farmers and servants” Barbrey was first to answer again, clearly eager to show off.

Sansa nodded in approval, “That is very good to know. One can never know what the future holds. Sometimes unexpected deaths and wars happen. It is important for girls to learn how to manage households and rule effectively and efficiently in the event they have to step up and fill their fathers' or brothers' places.”

“And what about you Lady Lannister? What lessons are western girls like you are taught?” Lyanna asked with a glint of challenge in her eyes.

Sansa smiled at the other girl, pleased at the direction the conversation is going.

“Many things my lady. Household management and accounting just like Lady Barbrey shared of northern ladies. But my personal favorite of all is reading and learning history”

“Reading? That’s boring. To have to sit still for hours just reading old dusty texts—” Lyanna‘s face twisted in a grimace, clearly unimpressed.

The expression was so like Arya’s it almost made Sansa smile in fond amusement. But she reminded herself the girl isn’t her sister and must be taught a lesson. Perhaps what happens next will help the girl grow up a little more and learn to be more cautious.

“A mind needs books like a sword needs a whetstone and a smart person knows one should not sneer at learning history my lady. People who do not remember and learn from history are bound to repeat the mistakes and tragedies of the past.”

“So Lady Lannister who loves reading, what examples can you give of history repeating because of ignorance of the past?” Lyanna jutted her chin out, face one of defiance.

Other conversations petered out. Most of the attention was now on their side of the table.

“Why, the, not one, not two but five Blackfyre Rebellions my lady. The rebellion of the Reynes and the Tarbecks. The North’s history too is ripe with examples. For instance, the Greystarks' alliance with the Boltons and their rebellion against your Stark ancestors. If they had heeded history, they’d have known their bid for northern dominance would end in the decimation of their house. Was it not what Starks of old did to Houses Towers, Ambers, Greenwood and Frost? The Marsh king and the Warg king?”

Lyanna’s eyes widened and her mouth slackened, clearly not expecting her to know northern history. Brandon and Barbrey looked flabbergasted. Lords Ryswell and Mormont too looked surprised. Lord Rickard looked pleased and impressed—then he deliberately turned his head and looked at Lord Ryswell with his dark gray eyes. The Lord of the Rills squirmed a bit on his seat.

_Yes good Lord Ryswell. Remember this lesson well. This is for you too. Remember what happened to the Greystarks. And all the rest of them._

Lord Wyman laughed, face looking impressed and approving, “Ah! Someone with great knowledge of northern history! Quite a rarity you are my lady. Most southerners normally dismiss the North as nothing but a barren land with savages and barbarians”

She looked him in the eye and smiled gently, “I am not most southerners my lord. I would love to travel and see the world but I am bound to my duties. And so I turned my passion to reading and learning—about many places, cultures, people, trade and war. I came to realize that most of us live and die in our safe, cozy little corners of the world not having knowledge or understanding of others. Most of us look at others with eyes that saw little and judge with minds that know less and foolishly think ourselves better and greater. I don’t want to be like most of us”

The Lord of White Harbor laughed again, “An impressive view my lady. It is true, most people know so little and yet boast and judge so much. The world would be a better, less chaotic place if many more think like you. Tis a relief, to know the future Lady Stark is one who values wisdom”

“Thank you my lord” Sansa bowed her head a little in thanks.

Her Uncle Kevan had a proud smile while her Aunt Genna wore a haughty smirk.

“And what else have you read and learned about the North my lady?” her grandfather, Lord Stark asked, an assessing glint in his eyes.

“I mostly read about the years of conquests and wars with the Andals, the Faith, the Ironborn and the Vale of Arryn as well as history of the northern houses. I also learned some about northern trade and economy”

“Trade is it? A strange interest for a young lady” Brandon commented with a frown.

“Well, you can say our niece is quite the exception. She’s been reading all sorts of books since she was only three” Genna shared with pride.

“Impressive” Lord Wyman praised then looked at her with curious green eyes, “And what ideas have you thought to improve northern trade my lady?”

Sansa straightened her spine to look more in command and show confidence, “The lack of a major port on the west coast is severely damaging to northern economic development. Torrhen’s Square is a very ideal spot, I'm sure you agree. Its location puts it near the center, surrounded by the Neck, the Barrowlands, the Rills, Deepwood Motte, Castle Cerwyn and very close to Winterfell. I believe, if one such port exists and is linked with a major road to the White Knife then it will be easier to connect with White Harbor and will open up trade with Seaguard, Lordsport, Lannisport and even Oldtown. The distance and time necessary to transport goods from east to west and vice versa would catch the interest of merchants and traders.”

“You forget why such a thing is impossible little lady. The Ironborn infest the western coast” Lord Ryswell snorted. Barbrey who stood silent with a furrowed brow the entire time nodded in agreement with her father.

“Lord Ryswell is right. Ironborn reavers have been enemies of the North for centuries” Brandon agreed with a frown on his face. Barbrey smiled prettily, pleased that the heir to Winterfell supported her father.

“I have not forgotten them Lord Ryswell, Lord Brandon. Lannisport has also suffered their unwanted presence many times in the past, in case you’ve forgotten”

Sansa looked first at Barbrey then Brandon before locking eyes with the Lord of Rillseat to show she’s not intimidated and tried hard not to glare at the lord.

Then she continued, “As for the issue of the Ironborn reavers, it can be addressed by an alliance between the North, the Riverlands and the West—naval patrols or escorts for trader ships. With three regions and possibly the Reach joining the trade link and having vested interests and keeping an eye for any attacks, the Ironborn will not easily attack. Having the Botleys of Lordsport linked to the chain would also help. As the ruling house of the main port of Pyke, surely they will exert effort and influence to stop other Iron Islanders from destroying their source of wealth and trade credibility throughout the Seven Kingdoms? Surely they will fear having to face retaliation and other dire consequences passed to them from the Iron Throne?”

Lord Rickard and Lord Jeor gave little nods, both looking thoughtful.

“The idea does have merit” Lord Wyman agreed, stroking his chin.

“Once trade is opened, then northern timber and lumber would be easily exported both west and east. More goods from the western coast will pass through central North to the eastern coast and possibly across the Narrow sea and vice versa. And with increased trade at the center, more people will be attracted to join the trade and even develop other industries as time goes on” Sansa finished her explanation.

“Tis a very good idea indeed. Well-thought, I must say” Lord Jeor nodded his head, gray eyes showing more respect for her now.

“Have you seen the mining tracks when you climbed the Lion’s Mouth my lords?” Sansa asked, looking them each in the face. They all nodded.

“We have my lady. What about them?” Lord Rickard who'd been silent and looked thoughtful for a while looked at her with interest in his intent gray eyes.

“The tracks were made to make the transport of goods like ore, coal and overburden out of the mine easier. If those tracks could be recreated at a larger scale on lands between Torrhen’s Square and White Knife—”

“Then it will be a lot more easier to transport goods from east to west coast and reverse” Lord Rickard interrupted.

“It will take a lot of time and men and gold” Lord Ryswell pointed out, a cynical look in his face.

“Nothing truly great is built in a day my lord. The greatest of achievements that last through the ages take time, patience and work. The port may be completed and operational within five to ten years. As for the tracks—it may take decades but if it does get completed, the North shall reap the rewards for centuries” Sansa countered the Lord of the Rills.

Lord Stark, Lord Jeor and Kevan all smiled. Lord Wyman chortled, “By the gods! The rumors that trickled North are true I see. The little Lady Lannister does have a sharp mind and claws”

***

Rickard 

Rickard watched as his daughter squirmed in front of him.

“Lyanna, your manners at the table were atrocious. And you showed clearly how ignorant you are by not thinking your answers through and just saying whatever you want. Have I not taught you anything girl?”

“But father! She provoked me. She’s out to make me look bad—

“Quiet. The Lady Lannister has been a most exemplary host. She provided us with accommodations worthy of royalty. She’s made sure to see to our every comfort and need. I noticed no provocation. Everything I heard from her mouth was that of a girl who is cautious and think things through. The conversation we had at the table was proof of that. She wasn’t out to make you bad. You made a spectacle of yourself. Starting from when we arrived when you asked about her brother.”

Lyanna’s face darkened, her hands clenched at her side.

Rickard sighed heavily and massaged his temples, “This is a mistake”

“Father?”

“Taking you south is a mistake. Since we traveled south you have been nothing but a wild thing incapable of following instructions. You constantly find ways to defy me. Clearly you are not ready to face the company of southern lords and ladies. You couldn’t even manage to make a decent conversation with the polite and affable young Lady Lannister, how much more will you blunder your way in the presence of vicious and insulting lords and ladies of the south?”

Lyanna remained quiet but her small figure was that of familiar defiance.

“I cannot take you to Highgarden. I will not. You’re simply not ready to face southern vipers”

His daughter gasped, eyes wide with disbelief and betrayal.

“Father! No! I'm already here. You can’t send me home. You can’t be this cruel” Lyanna loudly protested, tears forming in the corner of her eyes.

“No I am not sending you home. You will remain here with guards. I shall request the Lady Lannister and her aunt and uncle to have someone host you while Brandon and I are in Highgarden. You will stay here and await us to go home North.”

“No!!!” the girl wailed.

“Cease this appalling behavior child. Or I will surely have you returned to Winterfell tomorrow” Rickard snapped, patience finally over.


	14. Lyanna

Lyanna 

The forest was a bit dark and the only sounds that could be heard were the buzzing of insects and croaking of frogs. She thought she also heard an owl hoot in the distance. Everything was spooky but she refused to be deterred.

She’s Lyanna Stark of Winterfell. A descendant of the Kings of Winter. She’s a wolf not an easily frightened rabbit. 

Her father and brother left for Highgarden by ship three days ago, along with the rest of their retinue, the Lannisters and the Tullys. She was left with two guards on the dock, watched with tears in her eyes as their ship grew smaller and smaller then disappeared on the horizon. 

Her father thought her too wild to meet the lords and ladies of the realm and left her to rot in the den of stupid and shitty golden lions while they enjoyed the bounty of Highgarden and the sight of great knights and famous kingsguards dueling and fighting with swords. She should have been there. She's the one who likes swords not the little Lady Sansa Lannister or the trout Catelyn Tully. It should have been her going to the tourney, not those pathetic snowflakes. 

It’s all so unfair! Why must she be punished like this? All because she was being honest and spoke her mind? Because she refused to act like a pretty, polite but empty-headed wimp? It’s unfair. It truly is. 

But her father did not place other restrictions on where she could go and what she could do so here she is, giving her guards the slip.

An adventure all on her own! 

She heard about the fortune-teller from the servants. They said she's also a witch that dealt with cures and love potions and that her prophecies are good. That they really do come true. Well, why not give it a try? 

Maggy the Frog. 

Ha! A funny name. An ugly one too. Who calls themselves Frog? Why not Maggy the Mage? Maggy the Magician? Maggy of the Higher Mysteries? Those sounded better. 

Doesn’t matter. She’s not here to ask that. She’s here to know her future! What will it be, she wondered. Great fortune she hoped. She can’t wait! 

A small creek. Hop on the stones. 

So many trees. Where could it be? Walk more. 

Is that light through wooden slats she sees in the distance? Walk more.

It is! A dark green tent with a peaked roof. This is it. This is what she’s looking for. There’s no other possibility.

***

When Lyanna entered the tent, she saw that the space was cramped with hanging pots and pans with rotting plants and what looked like herbs.

The smell inside was a bit nauseating. There was a table full of little vials and more little pots and pans. There’s rats under the table. She can’t see them but she can hear their squeaking.

In a darkened corner on the side of the table, that’s where she saw her.

The witch.

She’s possibly one of the ugliest people Lyanna has ever seen.

The old woman before her was squat and warty, with crusty yellow eyes, no teeth and pale green jowls. And a terribly bent back. 

Ah, so that’s why she’s called a frog. It’s frighteningly appropriate. 

“Girl” the ugly witch spoke in a croaking, accented voice. 

“You are Maggy? Maggy the Frog? The fortune-teller?”

“Oh aye. But you shouldn’t be here girl. Get out. Get out!”

Lyanna stood up straighter and lifted her chin, “I’ll be where I want to be. I’m not going to leave. I came to seek you. I want to hear your prophecy for me.”

“The girl is a foolish girl” the woman croaked once more. 

“They say you are good. That your prophecies come true. I want it. Tell me my future” Lyanna insisted. 

“Everyone wants to know their future until they know their future” the woman’s yellow eyes looked back at her. 

“Well I’m not going anywhere until you tell me mine. I’ll stay here for however long until I get what I came here for”

The witch chuckled then suddenly held out a hand with a wickedly sharp knife it made Lyanna step back. 

“Your blood, give me a taste” the witch demanded.   
Lyanna took the knife and without hesitation, cut her thumb with it. Blood immediately poured out but she wasn’t bothered. 

She held out her arm with the wounded thumb expecting the witch to catch a drop but she instead clutched her wrist, pulled her forward with unexpected strength and put her thumb in her mouth. Then she felt the old woman’s tongue lick her blood.

Gross! 

“Three questions. You might not like the answers” she croaked. 

Only three? Why can't it be more? What to ask? What to ask?

“What’s to become of me? I don’t ever want to marry. Will I marry?”

“A queen you could have been. A queen you’ll never be. Half a wife. Cursed for life”

“What?! That doesn’t make sense. That doesn’t answer my question”

“An answer you were given little girl. Take it or go”

Lyanna clenched her teeth in irritation. One question wasted. Is this witch really a fortune-teller? She sounds like a lunatic. 

“Who will I marry?” 

“The gods. No one. Only the gods know”

Lyanna stomped her feet in anger, “You’re not making any sense! How can I marry the gods? Then no one. That’s stupid! You’re stupid.”

The woman only laughed. Her disgusting jowls jiggling, spit flying out of her toothless mouth “A question was asked. An answer was given. Take it or leave little girl”

Lyanna inhaled and exhaled deep. Two questions wasted now. “How will I die?”

“Beware of the red wolf. She is watching you. The lady, the bastard, the queen. Porcelain, to ivory, to steel. Beware wild little she-wolf. Winter, she is here.”

It didn’t make any sense but a shiver ran down her spine. There was something terrifying in the air. 

All her three questions wasted and given useless answers, Lyanna decided to leave the little tent and the ugly, mad woman in it.

When she turned away, the witch laughed, high, long and eerie.

She ran. 


	15. Sansa

Sansa

Built atop a hill overlooking the River Mander, Highgarden is surrounded by three rings of white stone walls in increasing heights. Between the outer and middle walls lie the castle's famous briar labyrinth which serve both serve as entertainment and to confuse and slow invaders. Inside the castle’s walls are groves, fountains and courtyards. The sept is comparable to the Great Sept of Baelor and the Starry Sept at Oldtown. The palatial keep is decorated with grand statues and colonnades, its structures covered in ivy, climbing grapes and roses. 

Wherever she turned her head, she saw the beauty the Rose of Highgarden described and promised her a lifetime ago. But all the beauty dear Margaery’s home has to offer is ostentatious and empty to her now. She knows at the heart of it lie dangerously high ambitions, cruel manipulation and thorny webs of deceit. 

They arrived at Highgarden two nights ago. Thankfully, Tywin Lannister saw fit to arrive earlier than they and had seen to arranging the best accommodations for their party. 

In the two days since, Sansa has met more ghosts of her past. 

The first she met was Ned Stark who arrived with the Arryn party a day before they did and eagerly awaited Lord Rickard and Brandon. And oh how he looked like Jon! Sansa almost cried when she met him.

How could she not? The last she saw him alive was when he was forced on his knees on that platform. She saw Ilyn Payne cut off his head using his own sword Ice. Saw it roll and heard it made a terrible thumping sound. She saw the blood spurt from his neck and saw how his legs made their last jolts. Then Joffrey had his head covered in tar and mounted on a pike and forcibly brought Sansa to the Traitor’s Walk several times to make her watch as it slowly decayed and she could no longer see the recognizable features that made him her father. It had been too much. Thankfully, she had the perfect excuse of exhaustion due to the long journey and none took a second look. 

With Ned Stark came Robert Baratheon. The wastrel king of her other life had winked at her flirtatiously and looked her up and down with indecent eyes and made veiled remarks about red drapes. Sansa had wanted to drag the lecher and drown him down the River Mander. His death would be greatly beneficial not just to the Stormlands but the entire realm. 

Then she met Lord Royce. The tall, strong, kind and loyal man who stood by her side since they took back Winterfell. Who provided her good counsel during the time they were preparing for the War for the Dawn. 

She also met Lady Olenna. The blasted woman looked younger and beautiful still but her cunning eyes and sharp tongue was the same. The infuriating woman had looked at her and called her looking more like a trout than a lion with her red hair. That blind aim had hit the truth too accurately for her comfort and she decided to keep distance.

***

They were currently occupying a Lannister pavilion erected at a prime area where they had a view of the gardens, fields, as well as the tourney grounds at a distance. They were surrounded by ten red cloaks and her Uncle Tygett so they didn’t have to fear any danger.

Her father firmly ordered they be guarded at all times. They were quite the group after all. Jaime the heir to the Westerlands, Brandon who is heir to the North, Catelyn who is eldest daughter to the Lord Paramount of the Riverlands, Ned Stark, Barbrey Dustin and Sansa herself. 

“It is so beautiful! The gardens and the palatial castle. The grounds where they set up the tiltyard. The Mander with the pleasure barges. Everything!” Cat said with an impressed voice for perhaps the hundredth time. 

Barbrey huffed in annoyance, irritated at the other girl’s repetition of her admiration for Highgarden. Sansa ignored the arrogant witch. 

“It really is” Sansa agreed with a smile then turned her head to look at the vast field in the distance where large tents were mounted with banners of participating houses on top. She continued to take note of all the houses participating in the tourney. 

From the Vale: the moon and falcon of Arryn (I must meet Lord Arryn, I must make his acquaintance), black iron studs and runes of House Royce (dear Lord Royce, I hope we can be friends and allies until death once more), three black ravens clutching red hearts each of Corbray (Lyn Corbray may you rot in all seven hells with Littlefinger), nine stars on gold saltire and black field of Templeton (hmm useful, probably), broken black wheel of Waynwood (definitely a useful ally) and six silver bells of Belmore (another useful ally).

From the Stormlands: the stag of Baratheon (Robert Baratheon, may you get the pox and your cock rot and fall off), three brass buckles of Buckler (ignore for now), two white crossed quills of Penrose (ignore for now) three stalks of yellow wheat of Selmy (Targaryen loyalist), purple lightning bolt and stars of Dondarrion (Lord Beric, useful, maybe), two griffins of Connington (Targaryen loyalist), two swans of Swann (ignore for now), two suns and two moons of Tarth (Brienne! How I miss you! I’ll take you back, I promise. You’re my kni—)”

“It’s all coming along nicely. All the great houses and their greatest knights assembled in one place” Jaime commented from her side, making her turn her attention to him.

“And the kingsguards! I saw one from afar earlier today. I saw the long white cloak. It could have been Barristan the Bold. Oh this will be the greatest spectacle of all. The greatest and most honorable knights of all fighting it out!” Brandon grinned rakishly, clearly excited at the thought of fierce battles and possibly bloodshed. 

“Greatest and most honorable? Greatest fighters yes. But honorable? That’s questionable” Sansa muttered. 

They all looked at her with differing expressions. Jaime looked on with a fond smile. Barbrey looked at her with raised brows as though she’s stupid. Ned and Cat looked confused.

Brandon’s head snapped to her, “What? You don’t believe Ser Barristan and the Sword of the Morning honorable? How about the Lord Commander?”

“Many throw around the word honor and praise it and put it on a pedestal but what exactly is honor, my lord? How do you define it?” Sansa asked the Stark heir.

“Honor is doing what is right” Ned answered right away. Sansa held back a fond smile from forming on her face. Of course he’d be the first to talk. The honorable Eddark Stark. 

“And what is right? Who determines what is right?” Sansa followed up.

“Well, that’s common sense isn’t it? The laws passed down by the king and implemented across the lands tell us what is wrong and what is right, as well as our conscience” Barbrey joined the conversation with a furrowed brow, voice a bit patronizing. 

“So what you are saying is, honor is following a set of rules of right and wrong? Is that it?”

“Yes, exactly” Barbrey said.

Ned and Brandon nodded their heads in support. Catelyn just looked at them, a bit uncomfortable with the situation while Jaime just sighed.

“Let me ask you then, suppose you are a kingsguard, the king tells you to kill a man who was accused of treason that has not been proven true, would you do as the king said?”

“Well…it’s an order from the king” Brandon answered with slight hesitation.

“But the treason has not been proven” she retorted. 

Brandon’s forehead knitted while Ned looked thoughtful.

“The laws say an accused man deserves a trial. And without proof of treason, is judged innocent and deserves to be set free. The kingsguard rule says follow everything your king commands. Which will you follow? The law or your king?”

When no one answered, she continued.

“Kill the man and you chose to do what is wrong over what is right in the eyes of the law. Do not kill him and you disobey the King. You break your kingsguard oaths. You break the rules of the established institution you’ve sworn yourself to. Between the two, where is honor?”

“Your example is unfair. It’s far too complicated” Barbrey complained.

“But my lady, that is what life is all about—complications”

After what seemed like minutes, Brandon’s face cleared and his look was that of determination. “I would follow the king. The laws say the king’s justice takes precedence. And besides, why would a man be accused of treason if he is indeed innocent? Just because there’s no evidence doesn’t mean he is free of guilt” he declared.

“And what if the king asks you to kill your own father because he thinks he is committing treason? What if he orders you to kill children and women and innocents as punishment for their parents’ or husbands’ or brothers’ rebellion? What if he commands you to burn a city to the ground simply because a few traitors hide among the people? Would you do it? Would you keep your oath still? And what if the king is Maegor the Cruel or Aegon II who both usurped the throne from the rightful rulers? Would you say their justice were right when their rule were not?”

All except Jaime moved uneasily in their seats, looking awkward.

“Then what is honor for you my lady? How would you define it?” Ned asked, grey eyes so like his father’s full of curiosity.

“What makes you think I believe in it’s existence?” 

Ned drew back looking shocked while Cat gasped, scandalized. ( _She's not surprised. Family. Duty. Honor. are the Tully words afterall_ ). Brandon blinked confusedly several times while Barbrey’s jaw hung open.

“You don’t believe in honor, my lady?” Poor Ned Stark looked disturbed, like he’s seeing a naked woman dancing in front of him. 

“I believe it is an ideal. An impossible one. A pretty dream everyone believes to be true and try to live by but easily throw away or forget about in the face of harsh realities and conflicting interests.”

***

The Three Singers, that’s what the three weirwood trees in front of her was called. She remembered it from one of Margaery’s rambling talks when she asked the girl what Highgarden looked like.

Like several southern houses, Highgarden has a godswood too. It’s hidden like a gem in one of the castle’s many gardens. The three weirwood trees are large, ancient and graceful and have twisted and grown entangled across the centuries that they now looked like one single tree. Like the heartree in Winterfell, there was a pool located beneath the Three Singers.

She looked for the godswood in the guise of curiosity and exploration. Her Uncle Tygett and another Lannister guard accompanied her. ( _When she next meets Ned Stark, she'll share this piece of information with him. She's certain hell be overjoyed with it. Her father did love spending time with the old gods._ )

Looking at the trees made her feel closer to home. She wanted very much to kneel and pray but Tygett was there and he would think it strange. It might cause complications. So she just remained standing and looked at the trees.

“My lady?” A smooth new voice snapped her from her thoughts.

Sansa immediately turned around to see who entered the godswood and stepped back upon seeing them.

Two men.

Both with silver hairs. Both had purple eyes. And both handsome.

One young. The other a few years older. 

One wearing a black doublet with the three headed dragon. The other wearing a white cloak, a sword with a sun on its pommel at his side. 

_Rhaegar fucking Targaryen and Arthur Dayne._

In the flesh.


	16. Rhaegar/Sansa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a note:
> 
> I made adjustments and added 2yrs to their original ages. 
> 
> Year is 276 AC for birth of Viserys  
> Sansa 9-10  
> Jaime/Cersei 11-12  
> Tyrion 3  
> Brandon 15-16  
> Ned 14-15  
> Lyanna 11-12  
> Cat 13-14  
> Lysa 10-11  
> Bobby B 15-16  
> Rhaegar 18-19

Rhaegar 

He had been interested in seeing one of the last few weirwoods left in the south so he’d gone in search for it. He desired privacy and hadn’t wanted lickspittles and bumbling fools following him and only took Ser Arthur with him for protection.

Imagine his surprise when upon entering the godswood, he saw there was already a person standing in front of the heart tree. 

A young woman wearing a gown of gold. Tall and slender. Coppery-red-gold hair. He couldn’t see her face as her back was to him so he’d called out to her.  
The young woman immediately turned around and that’s when he saw her in full and learned her identity. 

He immediately saw the two eyes colored differently—one frost blue and the other emerald green. 

Alysanne Lannister. The one also called Sansa. Younger daughter of Lord Tywin Lannister. 

He’s heard of her. The Lord Hand’s youngest daughter who’s rumored to have inherited her father’s sharpness but with a beauty compared to Shiera Seastar's.

He changed his assessment. Not yet a woman. She’s not more than ten yet. Still a girl but she is indeed a beauty. And he suspected, she’ll grow even more beautiful when she blossomed in full. 

Several emotions ran through the girl’s face. The first was shock then a frown, look of scrutiny, next a look of wariness, until it finally settled on a serene look The girl curtseyed to him in a very graceful way that would beat any of the women at court. “Your Royal Highness” she greeted. 

“You are Lady Alysanne of House Lannister, Lord Tywin Lannister’s daughter” he confirmed though he was certain he got her identity right. 

“Yes I am Your Highness” 

He looked around and saw a Lannister guard in the distance looking at them. He returned his attention to the girl, “This is a strange place to be meeting you my lady. From my recollection, House Lannister worshipped the Faith of the Seven, not the old gods”

“I am merely here to look at the heart tree Your Highness. I was curious to see one of the few remaining trees south of the Neck”

“Ah, then we are of the same mind. I had also thought to explore the godswood. How do you find it my lady?” Rhaegar turned his attention to the Three Singers. 

“Peaceful, soothing in a strange way, Your Highness” was the girl’s calm reply, she too was looking at the heart tree now.

“A very simple faith it is—the faith of the old gods. No septs, no septons, no ornaments, no hymns, no laws, no books. All you have to do is kneel in front of the tree and pray. To whom do you pray Lady Alysanne? Which of the Seven do you worship? The Maiden? It’s quite the popular goddess for young women”

“Someone important to me told me a long time ago and their words convinced me over the years, there is only one god and his name is death. And there is only one thing we say to death” the girl’s voice was grave. 

He turned to face her once more, surprised and not expecting such an answer. 

“And what do you say to the god of death my lady?”

“Not today.”

A sudden breeze sent the leaves of the heart tree rustling and the sound was that of someone laughing faintly in the wind. 

“Oh? And what convinced you of this truth? Of there only having the god of death?”

The girl tilted her head a bit, the look in her eyes thoughtful and introspective for a moment before it turned calm and cool and she looked at the heart tree once more.

“Valar morghulis. All men must die. Beggars and kings. Good or evil.”

Dual colored eyes looked back at him, and the strange gaze made the back of his neck prickle. The Valyrian tongue also surprised him. 

“Walk long enough, climb high enough, hunt long enough and you will find that at the end of every road, only one stands waiting” the girl continued, the cadence of her voice even, “In the Faith of the Seven, he is the Stranger who guides men from this life to the next. Few seek his favor, or at least, few realize that they do. In the North, he is one of the nameless old gods staring out from the weirwood trees and the snow. In the Iron Islands, he is the Drowned God calling men down to his watery hall. What is dead may never die but rises again harder and stronger. In the Far East, he is the Lion of Night, whose wrath nearly ended the world. In Volantis, he is the Lord of Light, whose followers feed men to the flames to beg his favor. In Lys he is the Weeping Lady who sheds her tears for the living soon to die. In Qohor he is the Black Goat who feeds on blood offerings every day. On holy days, he is offered condemned criminals and in times of great crises, he is offered the nobles' children to beg his protection. Does he accept their gifts? Well, the city still stands. For the poor, he is the Hooded Wayfarer. For the soldiers he is Bakkalon the Pale Child. For sailors, he is the Moon-Pale Maiden and the Merlin King. He has many faces but wherever men turn, there he is. Men from every corner of the world beg him and seek his favor. For themselves if their lives have grown too hard or for others who are making it so. Men worship as they will but at the end of every road it is all to the same god they pray.”

Rhaegar shifted on his feet, a bit uncomfortable at how the conversation turned out, “You know a lot about foreign religions my lady”

“Reading is a favorite activity of mine, Your Highness” 

Books. Ah, a lover of learning. That's a better subject for conversation Could she perhaps… 

“Indeed. Tell me my lady, have you read or heard the story of the Prince That Was Promised?”

The girl’s brow furrowed, “It sounds familiar Your Highness.”

“It is about an ancient prophecy, of a promised prince whose song is ice and fire, one who will save the world from darkness” Rhaegar looked at the girl’s face closely. 

The girl’s face paled then turned stony then calm once more, “A prophecy? I have no interest in prophecies Your Highness. In fact, I would rather not hear anything remotely close to any prophecy”

Rhaegar felt disappointed at the answer. He had thought that with her showing some signs of intellect during their earlier conversation and her admitted love of reading, he’d find someone who might share the same interests as he.

He also had a faint hope that the girl might have read or heard about the prophecy. He’d met very few people who admitted to loving reading and learning and the most that did were boring, dried up, old maesters who cannot see beyond their noses. He thought the girl would be different. He was wrong. The foolish girl seemed to be dismissive of prophecies instead. 

“And what do you find displeasing in prophecies my lady?”

The girl looked him in the eye before speaking, “Prophecies are dangerous things Your Highness. They are nothing but trouble. They can be very misleading and damaging in the hands of fools who think they know better or people who find meaning over nothing or use them to cover the truth or reality. Thousands of lives can be destroyed by the response of someone to a careless word”

Rhaegar withheld a sigh. The conversation has gotten stale. The girl may have had impressive intelligence but was too cynical of prophecies and higher mysteries like the rest of the rabble. She may as well admit herself to the Faith and grow up to become a boring septa. 

What a letdown too. He had been hoping to build a connection with the girl and… be an influence to her. The mines of the West and their gold did run deep.

No matter. She’s not her father’s heir. Perhaps the less intelligent heir to the Rock would make a better pawn. He might be able to convince Ser Arthur to take the boy under his wing. Young boys everywhere would jump at the chance of learning under the Sword of the Morning.

***

Sansa 

_It all started with a fucking prophecy! Of the fucking Prince that was Promised._

It took Sansa all of the control she learned at Joffrey’s court and from her time with the Bastard not to show too much violent reactions to the foolish prince when she made the connections and realized the role the prophecy played. It’s the only explanation she could come up with for Rhaegar’s foolish and possibly mad actions. 

She heard bits of this prophecy from Jon and Ser Davos. At the time it didn’t matter much but now it does. Davos told stories of how Melisandre led Stannis to believe he was the Prince that was promised and influenced him to commit vile acts in the process—the kinslaying of his brother Renly by blood magic which was apparently witnessed by Brienne and her mother, the burning of little Shireen Baratheon and the sacrificial burning of many other people. Jon also told her how after Stannis fell, Melisandre then believed he was the promised prince who would save them from the Long Night. 

And the connection to the song of ice and fire…how Rhaegar left his wife Princess Elia and his two young children and absconded with Lyanna.

_The idiot must have thought that with the fire of the Targaryen dragons and the ice of the North and House Stark—he must’ve believed the two of them would fulfill the prophecy!_

She wondered if Lyanna knew of the prophecy and was seduced by Rhaegar’s forked tongue.

 _But she knew Rhaegar was married and had children with Princess Elia. Even eight year old educated highborn children know you don’t just run away with a married man!_

Sansa took deep breaths to calm herself but the realization continued to make her blood boil. 

_Well they can shove the prince that was promised drivel up both their arse! Thousands died. All people of Westeros probably died. The prophecy is a horseshit. There’s no fucking prince that was promised._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah... House of Black and White discussion by Jaqen was used.


	17. Tywin/Sansa/Rickard

Tywin 

Tywin watched as his daughter took a sip of her lemon water daintily. 

“Tygett says you accidentally met up with the prince and had a short talk?” 

“Yes I did. We talked about gods and prophecies” his daughter responded, rolling her eyes after.

“Gods and prophecies,” Tywin said flatly. 

His daughter nodded, “Indeed father. Of an ancient prophecy talking about a promised prince who will save the world from destruction.”

Tywin snorts derisively, “Of all things to talk about. Ridiculous!”

“Indeed. He looked quite interested with the prophecy. And you know what happened to those who believed themselves gifted with prophecies father so watch out”

“Hn. And what of Brandon Stark?”

Sansa put down her cup, “A brash and foolish boy. But nothing I can’t handle”

“And Jaime’s betrothed?”

“Catelyn is a beautiful and dutiful girl. She has flights of fancy at times but with direction, it can be curbed.”

“I might not be Hand for long”

The girl’s eyes widened then sharpened, “Oh? Has there been… unwanted developments as of late?”

Tywin’s jaw clenched, “The King saw fit to call Steffon Baratheon to court. They are cousins and were close friends during the war”

“And the King has been quite active in making japes of you since mother died. It is an expected turn of events Father.”

“He forgets it was I who served him well and good all these years. He disregards the fact it was I who was the reason his coffers are overflowing” he said in a low voice with bitterness and rage. 

“Father, is the position of Hand really that important you would allow yourself to swallow the insults and degradation when you could be at the Rock ruling like a king over a people more loyal to you and House Lannister? And besides, Targaryens cannot be trusted. Who can say King Aerys won’t be like the more murderous of his kin and plan your death simply to get rid of you? I say let him choose another Hand and see how well that Hand performs.”

Tywin’s jaw tightened then relaxed, “Hn. Enough of this talk. You and Jaime will not leave my side tonight at the opening feast. And when the tourney starts tomorrow, you and he will at all times have four red guards each. Gerion will be with Jaime if he’s not fighting. And Tygett with you.”

“Yes father”

***

Sansa 

The opening feast, simply put, was ostentatious. It was possibly the most vulgar display of wealth to impress all the lords of the Seven Kingdoms she has ever seen in both her old and new lives. It beat even Joffrey and Margaery’s wedding feast.

Then again she should not be surprised. She she should have expected it. They weren’t in times of war and a long winter wasn’t coming yet so resources need not be carefully allocated. And these were the Tyrells afterall. 

The Great Hall was massive—tall, green-colored marble columns elaborately designed with golden roses and twisting thorned vines high arches and a ceiling embellished with crystal chandeliers. Long tables that could seat up to thirty people each covered with flower-embroidered runners and laden with the fruits of the most fertile region. Silverwares, glass carafes of Arbor Gold and Dornish Red and glass goblets. Every luxury the ambitious Tyrells can offer. 

With almost all the great lords and many of southern banner lords attending and participating in the tourney the following day, the hall was full to overflowing. 

The Stark party was seated close to the Baratheon party and that was when Sansa had a clear view of the current Lord of the Stormlands Lord Steffon Baratheon with his wife.

The Lord Baratheon looked similar to Renly but with massive shoulders. He was tall, dark of hair and had kinder blue eyes than Robert Baratheon. His wife, the Lady Cassana was a beauty of dark brown hair, green eyes and a face with faint laugh lines. The pair were very good-looking indeed.

And it seemed they were good friends with Lord Rickard. She wondered when exactly that friendship started and if it was the main reason Lyanna was betrothed to Robert, not just Ned’s and Robert’s friendship.

The Tullys sat near the Arryn party. She saw her Uncle Brynden talking with Lord Royce and Lord Jon Arryn who looked like an older Harry Hardying—tall, broad, blue eyes and an aquiline nose but more gentle and calm-looking. With them sat who she now knew to be Elbert Arryn who was Lord Arryn’s heir and Denys Arryn, the Darling of the Vale. Both men had Lord Arryn's looks with Elbert more rugged-looking and Ser Denys more calm like the Arryn lord. 

House Lannister and their vassals were seated close with the Dornish party and Sansa experienced once more Oberyn’s flamboyance and equally ridiculous and amusing tales. It seemed no matter the place, the prince loved to entertain and be the center of attention. He had been disappointed that Cersei wasn’t with them, boasting that he was going to win the tourney and wanted to crown his betrothed the Queen of Love and Beauty. Sansa inwardly laughed, thinking how the prince should be thankful he actually dodged an arrow. Princess Elia was her own gentle and pretty self, acting as Oberyn’s leash when he got too rowdy and bordered on offensive. 

All these faded away however when King Aerys and Prince Rhaegar along with their kingsguards joined them. 

All the people stood up and cheered for the King of course, but it was only half as loudly as they cheered Prince Rhaegar. 

Sansa secretly observed the King with critical eyes. With his silver hair and purple eyes that resembled more with Daenerys Targaryen’s than Rhaegar’s, she could see that he had once been good-looking in his youth but time spent on the Iron Throne has taken its toll. He looked a bit thin in his rich robes with bags under his suspicious-looking eyes and a cruel line to his mouth. He wasn’t the much talked-about Scab king though. Not yet anyway. 

The King took the time to look around the hall with suspicious eyes but with his face tilted haughtily before he gave them all leave to sit down.

***

Rickard 

Rickard watched the King seated on the high table. Aerys Targaryen. Second of his name.

He has received ravens from Jon Arryn over the years how the relationship between the King and the Hand has gone worse with the King becoming jealous, more suspicious and cruel, prone to furious outbursts both in private and public. It would seem he’s going down the road of cruelty and incompetence some of his ancestors have treaded. There were also coded reports of abuses to his Queen. And now a rumor from Jon Arryn of a possible new Hand before the year ended. 

The Prince Rhaegar looked more dignified than his father. Tall and strong and handsome. Reputed to be a better man than his father. Rumored to make a better king. Rickard refused to be convinced so easily by reputation alone though. Many Targaryens started decent only to turn out failures in the end. 

He looked at Steffon Baratheon. The man had asked to meet with him privately. 

Tywin Lannister betrothing his heir to Tully’s eldest girl, his eldest girl betrothed to the younger Prince of Dorne and his youngest daughter to his son Brandon. 

Hoster Tully looking for a husband for his younger daughter from a noble house from the Vale or the North, especially a younger son of his. 

And now Steffon Baratheon, the possible next Hand, asking to meet with him.

Such a tangled web of plots and planning and possible treason being formed in the dark. When will it all snap and break, he wondered.


	18. Sansa/Rickard

Sansa 

Rhaegar was good. He was very, very good. At jousting anyway. 

After the weak ones were weeded out and the competition between really serious contenders began, it became apparent just how talented the Crown Prince was.

The crowd cheered loudly and wildly as he trounced his opponents one after another. He already defeated her Uncle Gerion yesterday after breaking seven lances and now she watched as he finished her Uncle Tygett's good run after breaking nine lances.

A pity that. Gerion and Tygett both had promised to crown her if they'd won. 

Three other competitors were steadily working their way through the lists though. Ser Barristan the Bold, The Blackfish and The Sword of the Morning. Already people were making heavy bets the final battle would be between two of those four. 

Jaime had hollered himself to hoarseness in support of The Blackfish while Cat had gouged her palms with her fingernails in suspense every time her Uncle Brynden fought. 

Looking at the Stark party, she saw Lord Rickard, Ned and Lord Jeor sat dignified. Lord Wyman was up on his feet shouting while Brandon almost fell off the railing several times in his ardor to cheer the jousters. The Heir to Winterfell had wanted to join the tourney himself desperately but her grandfather put his foot down and firmly denied the brash heir. 

Of the archery competition, a winner already emerged at the final distance from House Tarly. Not surprising really, considering their sigil was that of a huntsman.

Of the melee, she saw Lord Jeor, Lord Wyman, Lord Arryn, Lord Yohn, Lord Selwyn of Tarth, Robert Baratheon and even her Uncle Kevan joined but the winner had been Lord Steffon Baratheon. The man had attacked his opponents like the great stag of his sigil. She saw then where exactly the lecher King Robert got his fighting prowess from.

***

Rickard 

Rickard listened attentively as Steffon Baratheon began to speak, his gray eyes taking note of the exhaustion and discomfort hidden well under the man’s calm façade.

“Lord Rickard, Jon Arryn has communicated with me, told me you know of the most important goings-on at court.”

Rickard nodded gravely, “That he did”

Steffon finally broke the calm façade with a deep sigh, “I fear it has come to this. Things have indeed become worse, my lord. Aerys grows jealous, suspicious and crueler by the day and no longer wants to listen to Tywin. He may declare anytime that he will have a new Hand. With my summons to court, our family relations and childhood friendship, you can see how this most likely will end.”

“Yes, there’s quite an extensive background of Lord Baratheons as Hands of Kings. Aegon I chose Orys Baratheon as his first Hand, Jaehaerys I chose Lord Rogar Baratheon as his first Hand, Jaehaerys II chose Lord Ormund Baratheon as his first Hand.”

“You know your history well. I honestly do not desire to be Hand and step on Tywin’s toes, my lord. The man has served well and loyally enough over the years and does not deserve this humiliation. But we all are bound to serve the King and must do our duties.”

Rickard’s lips twisted, “That is true. We all must do our duty. Great or small we must do our duty”

Steffon only smiled but his stormy blue eyes were unamused, “Tywin’s heir is betrothed to Tully’s daughter and his youngest daughter to your heir. It seems to me an alliance is the most logical step during these times fraught with danger. I have a son and you have a daughter. What say you, my lord?”

***

Sansa

Sansa’s skin prickled and she felt the small hairs on her arms and nape stood up at the very potent danger they were facing in their current situation.

Their red guards were all required to remain outside of the room while they were surrounded by tall and no doubt strong guards in all their heavy armors and long white cloaks. Their hands weren’t on the hilts of their swords but Sansa knew that in a blink of an eye, the white cloaks could have their blades unsheathed and have anyone they see a threat cut to pieces and down on the marbled floor.

Her father stood tall like an immovable mountain but she caught him clench his jaws for a moment before his face became impassive.

Jaime stood beside her, his nerves showing through the shifting of his feet once in a while. She couldn’t blame him, not when they were both under the scrutiny of the purple eyes of the future Mad King and the possibly mad prince and the kingsguards.

“So this is your heir and your youngest daughter eh, Tywin?” the dragon said with a sneer.

Sansa tried very hard not to clench her fists in terror.

“The boy looks just like you when we were young. The girl though… Come to me girl” the king gestured with his forefinger for Sansa to go near him.

Afraid, she looked to her father for direction but Tywin only nodded his head. She took a deep breath and steeled her spine then tried to look calm. With slow, careful steps, she went to the king.

“Closer girl” Aerys commanded.

She took more steps. The moment she stood a hand’s reach from him, the man’s hand snapped up and took her chin in a bruising hold making her arch awkwardly. His fingernails dugged painfully on her skin and only her experiences with Joffrey and the Bolton Bastard prevented her from crying out.

“There’s a good girl. Show me those eyes little girl” the king ordered and forcefully lifted her chin, his bad breath on her face nauseating. She slowly lifted her lids and looked him in the eye.

“Fascinating, truly fascinating. Eyes like Shiera Seastar’s. How very strange and rare. Like the animals that live in the menageries of Essosi nobilities. Red hair too. What is it they say about red hair? Fire. Ah kissed by fire!”

The king suddenly let go making Sansa scramble for balance. She took a few steps back when she got her bearing and remained standing, her eyes lowered but alert.

“She has very little of Joanna’s in her but she will no doubt grow up to be a greater beauty than her mother. You have wanted for so long to see a daughter of yours betrothed to my son. Your eldest was unacceptable—an unruly, arrogant child. But this one seems obedient enough. She will be kissed by the fire of House Targaryen. She will marry Rhaegar when she starts bleeding and breed heirs for the throne. Bow to me in gratitude Tywin, it is not everyday a King marries his heir to a servant”

Sansa felt her breath suddenly leave her and dark spots filled her vision. 

_Nonono. This is wrong. This is all wrong._


	19. Tywin/Sansa/Rickard

Tywin 

Tywin sighed heavily and stood up from his seat.

He had let his daughter be on her own enough. It’s time he did something. 

The girl was out of her wits with terror. She looked like a green boy fresh from his first bloody battle—the pupils of her eyes blown wide and the rest of her unresponsive. 

He has known for a while now that all the reading and learning she’s done over the years seemed to have pushed her to form extremely negative views of the royal family. What he didn’t know and failed to understand was how deep the girl despised and was terrified of the Targaryens. 

No. He should’ve known and understood years ago. The girl has discovered what happened to her mother in the hands of the King. He himself has witnessed Rhaella's hellish life with Aerys. Has witnessed the cruelty the man is capable of. 

Approaching the girl blankly staring out at the garden that was slowly being wrapped in darkness, Tywin wished Joanna was still alive. She would’ve known how to provide comfort to their child. Her gentle arms and words would’ve served a better place of solace in this extremely trying time. He’s too much of a cold lord and a military man to coddle frightened young girls. 

He called her name several times but got no response so he shook her small shoulders simply to snap her out of her stupor. 

“Get a hold of yourself” he growled lowly, leaning down a bit and cradling her pale face. 

He watched as her eyes lost the haze and slowly focused on him. 

“I don’t want to be queen father. I don’t want to marry a Targaryen. I wanted…I wanted to go to Winterfell not live in the Red Keep” the girl looked at him, her voice cracked when she hiccupped and her strange colored eyes begging. 

Tywin gritted his teeth first before forcing his face to gentle,“It is done Sansa. Aerys is doing this to bring me to heel. And he will do everything to get what he wants, daughter, you can be sure of that. Fire and Blood. That is the Targaryen way. There are two choices: You accept it now or we go to war”

She choked on a sob and tears started to stream down her wan cheeks. He can’t ever remember her crying since she started talking and was able to communicate her wants and needs. Not even during Joanna’s death. Jaime and Cersei both wailed like wild little things but Sansa did exactly as he’s done. She remained aloof, quiet and went on doing the duties her deceased mother left behind. 

"No! I don't want to be the cause of a war! I won't be the reason thousands die!" she vehemently denied. 

Tywin felt his chest tightened. He wiped away the tears on her small face with his thumbs and talked lowly, “Listen to me, my girl. Listen. You are a Lannister. A lioness of the Rock. And you are my daughter. Aerys is naught but a jealous fool. An incompetent king on his way to an early grave if his attitude and actions continue. But you my daughter—I am confident you can win this. You are wiser than most people I know. I will do everything in my power to shield you and keep you safe, this I swear. But if you don't want a war, you must do your part. You must accept it now, no matter how difficult it is to swallow. Adapt quickly to this new reality. Endure. Keep moving forward as you have. When the right time comes, birth heirs for the throne. Rhaegar may yet prove a better man and husband than his sire. If not, then we’ll take everything they have as payment for their debts. Do you understand?”

Tearful blue and green eyes continued looking at him. He cradled the back of her head and pressed his forehead to hers “Let this be the last you shed your tears over this my girl. Stand tall. Be strong. Be the person you were always meant to be. Not next year. Not tomorrow. Now. It has to be now Sansa.”

The girl closed her eyes, inhaled and exhaled deeply and when she opened them again, the green was wildfire and the blue was ice. He knew and was certain she’s found a new purpose. _Very good._

“We still have years to prepare. I am sure Aerys will want to keep you close. Tygett and Gerion will both be at your side at all times.”

“The Mormonts,” the girl interrupted, voice cold, and Tywin raised his brow in question.

“Uncle Tyg and Uncle Gerion won’t always be with me. I must have female companions who can stay in my rooms at all times and are also capable of defending me. The Mormont women are trained to fight. Lord Jeor is here. If we ask for their help, it will also serve as a sign of good faith to House Stark that I will have their vassal’s kin at my side.”

Tywin nodded at the idea, glad she's back to her sharp, logical self. The Mormont women were savages but it can’t be denied they’re fighters equal to their men during battle. Their famous northern honor will also ensure their loyalty. He would just have to require them to take regular baths and have them brush their hairs and provide them better clothing and a few jewelries so they’d look like proper nobles and not complete savages and paupers at his daughter’s side. He won’t have them causing embarrassment to Sansa. Perhaps he’d ask the Martells too. For women who knew how to handle knives in the dark and knowledgeable of poisons. 

“The Starks father” his daughter's voice broke his musing, “What will happen now?”

“Aerys has effectively and forcibly put on my shoulders the burden of breaking your betrothal to the Stark heir. I will speak with Lord Stark myself and explain the situation before it gets out of hand. It is not ideal but the man so far has proven calm and rational. There will certainly be negative consequences but it is what it is” Tywin clenched his jaw again at the thought of another complication. 

“Let me speak with Lord Stark in private father, please.”

His eyes narrowed, “What do you plan to do?”

“I mean to convince him to throw his support behind me. He won’t have my dowry weighed in gold now that Aerys has done this. But I want to assure him I will keep Northern interests close to my heart. I also would like you to honor the trade agreement even if I am no longer betrothed to Brandon. We must pay our debt to them father, no matter that it wasn’t our fault this happened in the first place. The support of the entire North is at stake and possibly the Vale's”

“Done.”

***

Sansa

She’s been very foolish.

She’s kept herself inside the safe and opulent Lannister comfort zone and made grand plans of being a Stark once more and going home to Winterfell but did not think of life’s cruel twists and turns. She should have. She should have.

The North has gotten further away, her Stark roots denied to her once more.

Like Harrenhal, the tower of dreams she’s been building for years was burned by a cruel dragon in front of her eyes and fallen to rubble beneath her feet.

But she’s a master at picking up the pieces. She'll pick them all up stone by stone, make an even greater tower and build catapults to hurl the rest to those who tried to destroy it again. She’ll quarry the stones from under Casterly Rock and the mountains of the West too, if need be.

And she is not alone. Not like as a lifetime ago. At her side is Tywin Lannister and at her back is the gold, the fleet and the army of the West. The Riverlands too with Cat’s betrothal to Jaime. And she’ll get more allies. She'll make the North an ally before they separate ways. 

Past or future, the Iron Throne owes her and House Stark much and House Lannister for Joanna.

Winter is coming. Debts must be paid. And when it’s over, she means to have not just the North, but the entire Seven Kingdoms.

***

Rickard 

Rickard could only stare at Lord Tywin Lannister, his mind still stuck at the grave news the man just gave. 

They had both been planning to declare their children’s betrothal and make it public knowledge. But the dragon has seen fit to breathe fire without so much as a by your leave and now the web connecting House Lannister and House Stark has snapped. 

They could protest all they want but it will only end in blood and needless deaths. They were currently deep within a Targaryen stronghold and majority of the attending southern lords and knights were from the Reach, the Crownlands and the Stormlands. Most would no doubt follow the commands of the King. Capture or slaughter—the odds were clearly not in their favor. 

He is only thankful the Great Lion saw fit to inform him personally in advance instead of keeping him in the dark and making him endure the humiliation in front of a multitude when the King finally made his decision known. 

“House Lannister will honor the trade agreement for lumber and timber Lord Stark. I am also open to negotiations for financial assistance in your ventures should the North decide to build a harbor in its western coast—an idea my brother Kevan mentioned was discussed during your stay at the Rock”

Rickard sighed in relief and nodded. He is thankful all will not end in vain. If the agreement with the Lannisters ended prematurely, it would’ve been a huge loss for northern economy.

“I also wanted to ask something—proof that House Lannister intended to keep in good faith with House Stark and the North”

“What is it Lord Tywin?”

“The Mormonts. My daughter asked for them. Their women are capable fighters, are they not? I would ask for three or four of them to serve as my daughter’s maids and personal guards. She needs women who can remain at her side at all times and go with her to places men are not allowed to”

Rickard looked the Great Lion closely and saw for perhaps the first time, the man’s worry. It’s carefully hidden but for a man used to also maintaining a face, he was able to spot it. The lines in the corner of the other man’s eyes, his tense posture, the stiffness of his mouth and the clench of his jaw were all proof. Rickard’s building cold ire for the situation lessened when he realized this move by Aerys has not been received well by the Lannister lord too.

He also thought of the lord’s request. Northern women in the circle of Tywin Lannister’s rumored favored child who will possibly be queen someday will also only benefit the North and would serve to remind her of the North’s interests.

“I shall speak about this matter with Lord Jeor Mormont my lord. His sister, the Lady Maege is known to be an able warrior”

“Good. You have my thanks my lord. My daughter would like to speak with you also, if you would allow it”

Rickard wondered at the reason for the request but decided it would be foolishness on his part to deny the future wife of the Crown Prince. “I would, Lord Lannister”

The Lion lord nodded and without much ado, got up and left. A few moments later, the little lioness arrived.

“Lord Stark” the girl curtsied gracefully. Such a shame she’s not to be the next Lady of Winterfell now.

“Lady Sansa” he stood up and bowed to her, “have a seat my lady”

The girl sat down solemnly on the seat in front of him, “Lord Stark, my father explained everything I hope”

“That he did my lady”

His face softened when he saw a small, sad smile appeared on the child’s face, “I wanted to see Winterfell, the castle said to be built by the same legendary man who built the Wall, Storm’s End and the Hightower. I wanted to see its famed godswood and the crypt of the Kings of Winter”

“You may still get to visit in the future my lady. Who knows, you might have a progress North when the time comes. I would be glad to host you if that happens” he told her gently. 

“I hope so, thank you my lord.”

The girl took a deep breath. She was clearly struggling to say something so Rickard just let her take her time. When she finally calmed, the girl locked her strange eyes with him,

“Houses Lannister and Stark may not unite through marriage my lord but there is another choice. I hope you would not judge me presumptuous by telling you this but remember Lady Catelyn is betrothed to my brother Jaime. She will become my sister by law one day. She has a younger sister, the Lady Lysa, who is yet to be betrothed as far as I know. It is ultimately your decision my lord but no matter the choice you make, I swear to you now, when the time comes, I will not forget the North. Know that I will consider what happened here a debt to be paid, one I intend to pay to the best of my abilities”

Rickard felt a jolt on his spine at the certainty and heavy promise he found in the child’s eyes. Those eyes seemed far too old than they should be.

Time has proven again and again that Targaryens cannot be trusted. The situation they are currently facing just another proof of it. Tywin Lannister is harsh bordering cruel. But between Aerys and Tywin Lannister, he trusted the Western Lord to do things better.

And now, between an unknown as of yet fate for the grown-up Prince Rhaegar Targaryen (who’s doing nothing to improve the worsening situation but read books, win tourneys and play his harp and whose coin is still spinning in the air as far as he is concerned) and Tywin’s intelligent, polite and hard-working little girl (who the people of Lannisport swore has done much for the destitute of the city, handled petitions and gave out punishments wisely and justly and acted as regent of the Rock efficiently for a few years now), he would rather choose the girl.

“Your nickname, I have been curious how you came to have one such. Do you know its origin my lady?”

“Yes. I was told I insisted for others to use it when I was just a babe starting to talk. I learned from reading later on that it was a northern name of Old Tongue origins” there was an oddness to her tone Rickard cannot put his fingers on and decided to ignore.

“It is. Do you know what it means my lady?”

“Yes my lord. A charm, a praise. An invocation”

Rickard nodded, pleased at the girl once again, “Very good. I will consider what you said about the Tully girl. But I also want to assure you now, House Stark and the North will support you my lady, when the right time comes”


	20. Rickard/Rhaegar/Sansa

Rickard 

“Father! You can’t let this happen! It’s an insult to our house! They can’t just do whatever they like!” Brandon raged. 

Rickard grabbed his son by the shoulders, leaned closer to him and growled, “Do you want us captured or murdered Brandon? No? Then shut your mouth boy or I’ll do it for you”

“How can you just let this happen? The girl is my betrothed! Not Prince Rhaegar's.”

“I said lower your voice you foolish boy. You don’t even call her by name, much less tried to get close to her. Are you protesting because you genuinely cared for the girl or because your pride is hurting?”

Brandon fell silent but his face was still one of fury and Rickard felt angered at the boy’s lack of self-control and understanding, “The betrothal was forced by the King on the Lannisters. Lord Tywin did what was necessary—agreed to prevent a needless war. I have spoken to Lord Tywin. Our trade agreement with the West still stand and he gave word he is open to further negotiations. The North still stand to gain. But if you continue your stupidity Brandon, we will lose everything. Use your brain and not your pride. Remember we are not in the North. The Reachers and Crownlanders are Targaryen loyalists. Half of the Stormlanders too. Open your big mouth and talk as if we have power over here and we’ll either be imprisoned or slaughtered.”

“So it is ending just like this? As if no betrothal happened? We are Starks not some commoners. I am the Heir to Winterfell and you’re the Warden of the North in case you’ve forgotten”

“It’s time you realize Brandon, the world does not revolve around you nor your desires. Even the Stark name has its boundaries and limits. Remember this lesson well: you are nothing but a small, green boy in a fighting pit of experienced apex predators. And House Stark not wealthy nor powerful enough to stand against the Crown on its own”

“What will happen now?”

“I will tell you once a decision is made for a new betrothal. Now gather your act. Start behaving like a proper heir and talk no more of the failed one, do you hear me?”

The boy’s jaws hardened before replying, “Yes father”

_Why couldn't it have been Ned who was born first?_

***

Rhaegar 

“Stop smiling Arthur. It’s not very funny right now. Nor is it appreciated” Rhaegar threw a dark glare at the knight.

“Such a foul mood, your highness” the knight quipped.

“Who wouldn’t be in a foul mood in my situation? I am a grown man betrothed to a child. It feels like snatching a babe from the cradle”

“You exaggerate my prince. She’s almost ten. Young, yes, but judging by her wits, more mature than other ten and five year olds. In just a few years, she will be a grown woman and the difference in age won’t matter so much. Other marriages have greater age differences. Take the Lord Frey for example”

“Really Arthur, that’s the best you can come up with? If that is what you think then I wish we could change places instead and you marry her”

“You think the Lord Lannister will allow that? A knight instead of a crown prince?” the knight asked mockingly. 

Rhaegar bit back a swear at the mention of the Hand. Stuck between his Father the King and the Great Lion Lord—it’s not a place many would like but one he has to endure. 

The King might sit the throne and wear a crown but he was eclipsed by the man he called Hand who is also responsible for the annihilation of the Houses Reyne and Tarbeck. The Lord of the West is a strong ally but a wrong move and he’ll be a formidable enemy. 

“Look, the Lady Sansa” Arthur tilted his head to the girl’s direction.

Rhaegar turned his head and saw from from a distance the girl walking with her older brother, her Uncles Ser Gerion and Ser Tygett, the Tully girl and some red guards following them—their direction the Highgarden maze. 

Unlike the day before when the girl looked terrified and almost fainted in front of the King, today she looked like a pretty porcelain doll smiling up at Ser Gerion.

“A beautiful and proper girl no doubt but very strange and curious” Arthur’s voice interrupted his scrutiny.

Rhaegar returned his attention to the knight and raised a brow.

“Did you not observe her? Yesterday, when they entered the room—most girls would be amazed and wide-eyed, impressed in the presence of royalty and kingsguard knights. She was not. Her eyes sharply swept the entire room as though assessing danger and looking for escape routes. Then when King Aerys reached out and forcibly grasped her chin—most young girls would resist or cry out or altogether step back. She didn’t do any of those. Like one who has endured long years of torture, she steeled herself and braced for the pain. And when the betrothal was announced by the King—well, is going pale of fright and almost fainting a normal reaction of girls informed they’ll marry the Crown Prince?”

“What are you saying Arthur?”

“I’m saying she’s no ordinary girl.”

Rhaegar held back a snort, “You’re reading into the girl’s actions too much”

“I serve as your guard my prince. It is my duty to observe the people around you and assess them for any potential threats”

“Yet here you are telling me that a child not even ten is experienced at what? Handling torture? Assessing danger? She’s Lord Tywin’s daughter. She’s no doubt pampered and highly protected with guards always at her beck and call. How would she even develop the skills you’re talking about?”

“I do not know my prince. Which is why I said strange and curious”

“This talk is nonsense. You should prepare yourself instead Arthur. I don’t want to win simply because you’re busy imagining things and wondering about strange girls”

***

Sansa

It was as many people expected. After everyone else were eliminated, the four contenders people heavily betted on remained.

But there can only be one champion.

The Sword of the Morning defeated the Blackfish after six broken lances.

Rhaegar Targaryen defeated Barristan the Bold after seven broken lances.

The Sword of the Morning defeated the Silver Prince after an exhausting nine broken lances.

Princess Elia Martell of Dorne was crowned Queen of Love and Beauty.

Then the King Aerys stood up from his high seat on the dais and made the announcements.

Lord Steffon Baratheon as the new Hand of the King. 

Lord Tywin Lannister as the new Master of Coin

The betrothal of Crown Prince Rhaegar of House Targaryen to Lady Alysanne of House Lannister. 

The Crownlanders and Westerners were wild and deafening in their cheering. 

The Starks of Winterfell formal and solemn in their clapping. 

The Arryns and Tullys surprised. Some hiding it well. Others failing.

The Martells looking disappointed for a missed opportunity.

The Tyrells faking smiles left and right and center. 

Sansa waved her hand, a gentle smile pasted on her lips as the crowd continued to cheer loudly her betrothal with Rhaegar. The Silver Prince stood beside her, waving his hand too. 

The King Aerys looked on smugly from his high seat. 

The new Lord Hand Steffon Baratheon stoic by his side. 

Her father, Tywin Lannister, also standing, face a replica of a marble statue. 

Many high lords and ladies looking around, smiling like snakes, eyes sharp like hawks—watching each other closely for threat or opportunity. 

Same game. Same players. 

A new (old) contender. 


	21. Sansa/Rhaegar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew crazy week. Lol. Thanks to those who left kudos! They really inspire. And sorry for not updating sooner. I'm not so idle anymore-not with two energetic little kids joining me in my covid 19 quarantine. 😄

Sansa 

The nightmares were back and they’re back with a vengeance, always making her wake up in tears and cold sweat or fright and the small hairs on the back of her neck and arms prickling. 

She blamed the damned city and the cruel king that served as harsh reminders of the tragedies that happened to her (and if/when things go to shit as they normally do, tragedies still to come).

Kingslanding was approximately half a million people less than her previous lifetime but the same odious smell of piss and shit and unwashed bodies still greeted her nose a few miles before they entered the city. It stank less but not by much. 

The people were almost the same too—not the faces, of course, but the empty, fake smiles, pretentious words, houses, sigils, ambitions and methods of acquiring power.

Crownlanders, Westerners, Stormlanders, Reachers, Riverlanders, Valemen and Dornish—the same spokes on the wheel and a dragon sitting on top of its chair. 

In her dreams and nightmares—or mayhap imagined or broken memories? She sometimes hears Daenerys Targaryen of many titles speaking of freedom from chains and breaking wheels. She wondered if the Dragon Queen who declared herself a liberator realized that the Iron Throne she loudly and passionately proclaimed her birthright and wanted to occupy was in fact the wheel. You can break the spokes but so long as the throne exists, the wheel spins on and on and on one way or another, directly or indirectly moved by the person sitting on it as it had been for centuries—the people underneath crushed on the ground depending on the (in)competency and (weak/strong) will of the ruler on top.

She tried with all her might and provided many reasons to Tywin that got him to agree to convince the king to allow her to return to Casterly Rock and let her live the remaining few years of her childhood far away from the court of rats and vipers and its king of cruelty and prince of delusions.

Tywin had tried to negotiate with the king to let her stay at the Rock until she bled, a move that was strongly supported by the Lord Steffon Baratheon. But Aerys' will prevailed. 

As her father had initially predicted, Aerys demanded that she stay in the capital to start learning and preparing for her future role and responsibilities under Queen Rhaella. His words were, “What kind of queen would your daughter make my heir if she received her lessons from lowly servants meant only to sit and eat scraps under their King's table? She will be a Targaryen queen, she will learn from a Targaryen queen. That is the end of it.”

So here Sansa was, living once more in the city she abhorred and swore a lifetime ago never to return to. 

Her only consolation was that she was in a position of strength. Her father, Tywin Lannister, was the richest man and the great lord people feared to cross more than the king. She’s surrounded by sharp-eyed guards who she knew were hardened men who knew how to fight and kill—not a defenseless, old septa whose head was filled with nothing but useless drivel of the faith, propriety, feminine accomplishments and aspirations and most likely the chance to tell the world she had a hand in raising the future queen. (Whatever foolish notions did Ned Stark have that made him judge a septa enough protection for her then in this pit of liars and murderers? Arya at least had Syrio Forel who knew how to fight but Sansa who was betrothed to the ‘Crown Prince' at the time? Utter stupidity).

Her uncles Tygett and Gerion always made sure they escorted her along with four of the most feared red guards and with the arrival of the formidable Lady Maege Mormont and her fellow Bear Islanders Larra and Raya, she now could breathe easier being surrounded by fierce and strong women. Tywin also hired a Lyseni woman named Lysarra, one whose dark brown hair, blue eyes and good grasp of the Common Tongue made it easy to disguise her as Sansa’s servant. She has some skill with blades and very knowledgeable of the poison arts.

And a damned kingsguard. 

Aerys commanded a kingsguard dog her steps wherever she went. Oswell Whent or sometimes, Lewyn Martell. (Oswell Whent, she already knew, stood by and watched when his prince fucked things up and sparked the kindling that saw the Seven Kingdoms’ descent into war. Lewyn she knew fought for the king because Princess Elia was kept in the Red Keep. She concluded it was to make her a hostage to ensure Dorne’s support. She wondered if they’d been among the people who stood by and watched too when Joanna Lannister was raped.) 

She treated them with utmost grace and politeness of course and engaged them in conversations once in a while instead of just ignoring them (no need to show she despised their positions). In return both knights were equally polite and assured her their protection but she knew that could change with a word from the king. Their long white cloaks, polished-to-shine armors and footsteps never failed to make her feel constantly on the edge. They even made it frequently into her disturbed sleep at nights, their faces shifting over and over again with those of Joffrey’s kingsguards, swords raised to strike her. 

Her father, her uncles, Lady Maege and the other women have begun to notice her nightly afflictions and were starting to ask questions but what exactly can she say? Nothing but excuses: she can’t remember them, much heat causing fever dreams, unfamiliar place causing fears, future role and responsibilities ahead raising worries. 

They don’t really believe her of course. Tywin gave her calculating stares and pointed questions. Tygett and Gerion threw worried glances and always asked whether she was alright. The women offered her comfort and their ears and Maege has even started sleeping on her bed.

But she cannot tell them. A few careless words and when it reached the wrong ears, it would be the end of her. Many will think her spiraling to madness and demand she be committed to a motherhouse or locked in a cellar or sent away to wherever mad people go. Thankfully, their honor and newly forged friendships and budding loyalty with her made them keep their mouths shut and instead did their best to shield her. They too have come to realize the dangers of the Red Keep.

***

Queen Rhaella may still be a beautiful woman but a single look made Sansa realize she looked tired and older than she was because of a great, deep-seated misery (her marriage, without question). 

The Queen was gentle and soft-spoken with sad purple eyes. She welcomed Sansa to Kingslanding with a squeeze from her soft hands but told their lessons would have to be scheduled at a later date as she was still recovering from the birth of Prince Viserys. Sansa accepted, expressing to the queen her eagerness to learn and assuring her she will spend the time to acquaint herself with the Red Keep. 

Unlike in Casterly Rock and Lannisport, Sansa had few movement options in the capital. She decided to emulate some of the things Margaery Tyrell did. The Rose of Highgarden had been quite effective in getting the common people to admire her. 

She also decided to, as much as possible, not show her face at court and gatherings Aerys attended and instead devoted herself to other pursuits. That way it won’t raise eyebrows and questions if she stayed away when even more cruelty and madness started. 

The first act consisted of forcing herself to regularly attend masses and prayers at the cursed Sept of Baelor and giving alms to beggars. The Faith, no matter that she no longer believed in it, was a strong and influential institution to the common people’s daily lives, beliefs and opinions. She always made sure to smile and greet her fellow worshippers and ensured there were people watching when she knelt and said her prayers. She needed their gossiping tongues to spread her piety and make the common people look at her with favor. She had become a regular fixture of the sept that the High Septon and a few septas have begun taking notice of her presence and in rare times, even approached her to make small talk. Septa Mordane’s teachings and Catelyn Stark’s piety were good enough to make the man of faith look at her with approval in his eyes. 

With Tywin’s approval and gold and the knowledge and support of Lord Baratheon of course, her next act was to ask the septon’s and the septas' help in visiting the city's orphanages and investigating their needs that were not given solutions. They’d been ecstatic to do so, most likely celebrating the thought they now have access to the Lannister gold. 

After that, she began a campaign with those that seemed to always seek her father’s favor and gold by making their acquaintance and requesting for their throwaways such as old clothes, linens and furs to be donated to charity. House Lannister’s vassals gave their support in full in deference to Tywin but she also got donations from some houses like Baratheon, Tyrell, Stokeworth, Rosby, Massey, Mooton, Piper and Rowan.

She made no promises, but hints that their names and good deeds won’t be forgotten were enough to move them to support her endeavor—eager to make connections and gain her favor for themselves for no doubt future ambitions. Some even went as far as to give gold and food. Even Ser Oswell and Prince Lewyn gave coin to her charities later on.

She made sure to keep in line of course, always making sure to mention the Targaryen name and the royal family when people expressed their gratitude lest someone accuse her of undermining the king. 

Her third act was to walk the streets one or twice every sennight and talking to traders especially those in the textile and food trade. She supported local trade by purchasing bolts of cloths from stalls and making orders of hot pies and bread off baker carts to be distributed in orphanages she gave charity to and places where most beggars congregated. She also encouraged the Lannister servants to join her city walks and to buy food like fresh produce from the markets for their kitchens.

Not even three moons and people started calling her good Lady Alysanne and made comparisons of her with the Good Queen Alysanne. Tywin, she knew, hired some bards to make songs of her across the kingdoms.

All was going according to plans for now but soon, she knew, things will change and the noose was going to tighten even more. 

***

Rhaegar

Still uncomfortable with his betrothal with Lord Lannister’s child, Rhaegar stayed away and tried to ignore any mention of the Lady Sansa. He had devoted his time to reading and learning statecraft and war strategies, training in the yard, playing the harp and riding whenever he could. He’s even gone to the ruins of Summerhall for a few days to escape the oppressive atmosphere of the city.

But time in the training yard with Ser Oswell or Ser Lewyn who alternated in guarding the girl always somehow led to her name cropping up in conversations like a weed again and again.

The two knights made a habit of reporting to him what the girl has been up to and he could see they clearly formed some sort of admiration for her.

Only three moons of the girl living in the city and now he’s hearing songs about her—the good Lady Alysanne, people called and sang her praises. Their ardor were only getting stronger it seemed. And now the common folk kept on attaching their names to each other’s and comparing them to Jaehaerys I and Good Queen Alysanne. It was…pleasing and disconcerting at the same time.

“A fast worker that one. As efficient as her lord father” Arthur commented from his side.

He had just finished distributing the coins he earned from playing his harp to the beggars on the street and now they're walking to the orphanage to pay a visit. He heard gossips of the little Lady Lannister and her retinue attending one of the orphanages and decided to join and see for himself what she’s been up to.

When they reached the place, he stood at the threshold for a while in hesitation, looking at the many little children all sprawled in different positions on the floor of the large hall and listening avidly to a story clearly being shared by the girl in their midst. Her maids and guards were near the walls and none has noticed his presence until the girl looked up. He saw her eyes widen then she stood up with practiced grace, curtsied and greeted him, “Your Highness, what a pleasant surprise to see you here”

The result was instant: chaos. 

_Is he really the Prince? He’s got silver hair and purple eyes you idiot of course it’s him! The Prince! Prince Rhaegar! The future king. Oh what an honor! He’s come to visit with Lady Sansa!_

All the people in the room were now eyeing him and the children were quite loud with bright stars in their eyes and looked about ready to jump him it made him take a few steps back. 

“Everyone please quiet. Remember what I taught you about manners?” the little Lady Lannister’s voice broke through the noise. 

The children turned to her and the noise level went gradually down.

“A curtsy!” a little gap-toothed girl and another with freckles on her face both exclaimed.

“Yes, very good Alyssa, Jeyne. Now why don’t we show his highness what you all learned?”

The children all straightened up like little poles—the little girls gave him butchered versions of a curtsey and the boys awkwardly bowing deep, some even almost stumbled. It was amusing, even Arthur chuckled from behind him.

The next few hours were spent observing and talking with the septas who fairly fell over themselves in his presence and praised his young betrothed for her kindness and generosity.

The children also begged for him to sing and play his harp which he gladly did until they asked the Lady Sansa to sing too. They looked at each other awkwardly until the girl decided on singing the song of Jenny of Oldstones, his favorite. 

_Well_ , he thought while he played the harp and listened to her sing, _at least, if nothing else, we share the gift of storytelling, music and care for the small folk._


	22. Rickard/Sansa/Rhaegar

Rickard

His chest felt tight and all he could see was red. With the burning rage coursing through his veins, he raised a hand and delivered a loud slap to the girl’s wet cheeks. And another. And another. Until loud voices broke through the haze and a small body slammed on him.

“Father! Stop! Father please” Little Benjen’s voice was shrill, his face was wet with tears and his eyes looked at him with fear but his little arms were wrapped around his legs tight as though trying to restrain him with what little strength he had.

“My Lord!” Ser Rodrik’s face was one of sorrow and apprehension, the other guards also looked warily at him.

Rickard dropped his hand and patted Benjen’s head, then slowly extricated himself from the boy’s arms. With clenched fists at his sides, he looked down at the girl holding her red and bruised face, cowering in front of him, “Go to your rooms Lyanna and do not get out until I say so. Defy me again you foolish girl and I’ll bind, gag and drag you to the Silent Sisters where you’ll forever attend to the dead. Perhaps there, your recklessness and stupidity will be put to an end”

He watched with cold eyes as the girl hurriedly did as he commanded, almost tripping on her feet as she did so.

He looked at the downcast faces in front of him—a few looked afraid, one had wide tearful eyes mixed with guilt that could not look directly at him. He took note of those faces. Mark Ryswell. Barbrey Ryswell.

“Where are your horses?” he asked them.

“The-the st-stables my lord” the Ryswell heir spoke, voice high and panicked and the look on his face morphed from guilty to terrified.

“I will see those beasts dead, do you hear me boy? Get them out of my stables and have them out through the Hunter’s gate. I’ll butcher them myself”

When the boy looked to be stuck in place, Rickard raised his voice, “Now! You will go and do as I commanded now or gods help you, boy, it’ll be you who’ll pay”

The Ryswell heir ran to the direction of the stables without looking back.

“You girl” He looked at the tearful little chit Barbrey Ryswell. Her eyes were puffy and she looked wan but Rickard could not find it in himself to show an ounce of sympathy nor care. “Cease your infernal crying. Go back to your guest rooms and don’t show your face again in the halls of Winterfell. You’ll get out only when I say so” He looked away when the girl nodded jerkily.

“Where is he?” he asked no one in particular, knowing he will receive an answer from any one of them.

Martyn and Ser Rodrik hurriedly moved, “This way my lord”

The brothers led him to a cart where a body laid covered with a cloak. His hands trembling badly, he slowly peeled off the cloak and felt the breath get knocked off him again, his knees almost gave out. 

_Oh Brandon you foolish boy_ , he thought with fury and grief. 

The boy’s neck and right arm were both twisted at an odd angle. There were trails of blood that crusted under his nose and his chin. The color of his skin has started to turn bluish. His body cold. His no doubt empty eyes thankfully were closed.

 _First Lyarra. And now Brandon._ _Foolish Brandon. Selfish Brandon. Reckless Brandon_ , he thought most bitterly, _My son. My first son. You were supposed to be the future of our house but you’ve thrown it all away. And for what? A stupid race in the wolfswood with your stupid, wild, little sister and the ambitious fucking Ryswells to prove who’s best! Why could you not act with more caution like Ned? Ned. I must send for Ned. He must return home at once. He is heir to Winterfell now. T_ _his wasn’t what I wished for, you cunts. I wished him to be more like Ned or for Ned to have been born first. Not for you to take my son away from me. Not like this._

Rickard’s hands almost turned white clutching the cloak as he blinked away tears and tried to take deep breaths through the tightness in his chest. He is the Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. He needed to comport himself with more dignity in front of his people.

***

Sansa 

Sansa lit a candle at the foot of the Stranger and closed her eyes.

 _I was right. Things really could go shit at the drop of a coin_.

“Brandon Stark is dead” was the news that her father greeted her with when she sat in front of him for breakfast that morning. 

Brandon Stark the Wild Wolf—once more dead because of his and his little sister’s reckless actions.

 _What a waste,_ she thought hiding a grimace, _but perhaps no matter how other events diverged from their original paths, some things were just meant to be? Perhaps you were always meant to die and Ned Stark to step up as Lord of Winterfell? Perhaps it is better this way. Father—Ned would have years of training and won’t have to carry the burden of lordship unprepared. He certainly won’t rush without thinking to confront a mad king if_ —she shook her head, _No that cannot happen. That must not happen._

“My lady?” Maege's voice broke through her contemplation. Sansa opened her eyes to look at her, “You’ve been standing for quite a while in front of the Stranger now. Longer than before”

“Oh forgive me, I was… I was praying for Brandon Stark. His faith was of the Old Gods like yours, I know, but there’s no weirwood tree here in the capital, only an empty godswood”

Sansa had been the one to share the news with the Mormont lady earlier and saw how the terrible news caused the woman's face to fall, just another proof of their house’s loyalty to the Starks.

Maege's face turned grave at her words, “No need to apologize my lady, I understand. It was a tragedy—what happened to Lord Stark’s heir. One resulting from recklessness but still, a tragedy. He died too young”

“Yes, he died too young” Sansa echoed.

“Forgive me my lady but I can’t help but wonder. You pray to all the Seven but spend more time with the Warrior, the Crone and the Stranger. I had thought southern maidens devote themselves more to the Mother and the Maiden” Her face showed she was trying to move on with another topic to lighten the atmosphere. And though her tone had a teasing quality to it, she did look genuinely curious. A few moons guarding her have brought an ease between them now.

“I once prayed to the Mother for my own mother. But she died anyway. And afterwards…Well what can innocence and purity do in the face of life’s harsh trials? I decided then to pray to the Warrior for strength to face each day, to the Crone for wisdom to light my way and to the Stranger I ask, Not today”

 _The gods do not exist,_ she thought deep inside, _but Robb, Jon, Brienne and even Sandor did and it is to them I look for strength. To Bran I look for wisdom and Arya—Not today were the last words she told me. A prayer to the god of death—my only prayer now._

“The first two I understand but the last?” the warrior lady from Bear Island shrugged and frowned, “Does it not bother you my lady? The darkness of the Stranger?”

“Why should it? I believe we all are born and take our first breaths up to our last with the Stranger at our side. Friend or foe, he walks with us every step of our life journeys. Sometimes he gives us his kindness and offers help by reaching out and striking those who wish to harm us. Or, when life has grown too hard and no hope is left, he embraces us and gives us rest”

Maege looked at her with solemn dark eyes before her lips slowly curled up to a feral smile, “Well, as a Mormont and a warrior prepared to die fighting stupid squids, I won’t refute that. You have steel in you, my lady. Something like the steel of the women of the North”

Sansa only smiled. She could not tell Maege—but to hear those words from another Northern woman, words that recognized her strength and secretly validated her northern spirit—it brought her solace.

***

Rhaegar 

The Lord Steffon Baratheon invited the Royal family and the Lannisters to a private dinner in the Tower of the Hand to celebrate his name day. Rhaegar thought it only wise to accept and keep a cordial relationship with the Storm lord.

The dinner was an intimate affair. Only nine people in total. He and his lady mother the Queen, the Lord Baratheon and Lady Cassana who decided to visit her husband in the capital for a few moons, the Lord Lannister and Lady Sansa, the dour-faced Stannis who he's caught sneaking restrained admiring looks at his young betrothed, and Sers Eldon and Lomas Estermont, brothers of the Lady Baratheon.

The Lord Hand’s servants set a tasty table, the food served sumptuous and filling—a creamy chestnut soup, crusty hot bread, greens dressed with apples and pine nuts, salads of sweetgrass and spinach and plums sprinkled with crushed nuts, fresh trout baked in clay, trout wrapped in bacon, a suckling pig in plum sauce and stuffed with chestnuts and white truffles, grilled tenderloin with fresh herbs, honeyed chicken, and blueberry tarts, lemon cakes and Concord grape pies for dessert. And drinks of course. Arbor gold, Dornish red and hippocras.

A feast for a King—the King who was in one of his moods and decided not to attend an hour or two before the appointed time, slighting his host. Though in Rhaegar’s mind, it was no slight at all but a blessing. The King's presence and attitude were tiresome things after all and would’ve destroyed such a fine meal.

Many topics had been discussed over the course of the dinner, the conversations turning to more serious matters the longer they stayed at the table.

“I can only imagine how painful it must be for Lord Stark, to lose his heir to a horse race. And it's said it involved the younger sister” Lord Baratheon sighed heavily, taking a sip of from goblet.

The man, Rhaegar was certain, is doing everything he can to keep his the King pleased but it looked to be taking its toll on him. Not even half a year and already the Stag Lord has lost a few stones, his face showing clear hints of exhaustion.

“My son has written that Lord Stark had asked Lord Arryn to send Eddard Stark home. Robert is betrothed to the Stark girl, the Lady Lyanna. I believe you’ve had the opportunity to make her acquaintance, Lady Sansa? Anything you can say about the girl? How was she?”

 _That’s right,_ Rhaegar remembered with a jolt, _I did hear rumors of my betrothed being courted by the Starks of Winterfell. A move that was effectively rendered useless by father._

He looked at the Lady Sansa. Her face was calm but her head tilted a bit as though in consideration of the words she was about to speak.

“In truth, I only knew her for a few short days my lord. I do not believe those days were enough to take a full measure of the Lady Lyanna” the little Lady Lannister spoke carefully.

Lord Baratheon laughed, “If not her full measure, a half measure then. Anything you can say to help prepare my wife and I to make the proper intervention if needs be?”

The girl put down her cutlery and adjusted her posture until she was sat like a queen, “She’s a pretty one my lord, with some strength in her that, if guided accordingly could be a boon, but if left unchecked it could be a liability. I… I believe educating her more on the duties and the appropriate comportment of a paramount lady of the Stormlands necessary”

“Oh? A she-wolf then. I was considering asking Lord Stark to have her fostered at Storm’s End to learn under my lady wife but now” the Lord Hand shook his head at his own thoughts.

“It’s understandable my lord. Lord Rickard will no doubt want to keep his children close after the death of his firstborn. Perhaps the next year” Lady Cassana squeezed her husband’s arm close to hers as she spoke.

“Aye. I guess it’s for the better she does not start fostering yet. Things are rather taking a turn for the worse. This matter with the Darklyn’s and the increase of banditry has become truly vexing,” Lord Baratheon’s face showed irritation and his big hand clenched the stem of the goblet which miraculously didn’t break, “First they refused to pay their taxes and now Lord Denys is demanding for a new charter for Duskendale. A charter! As if it were that easy. We give them an inch and the rest of the realm will come swarming the capital with leagues and leagues of demands of their own”

“How disgraceful of a house which for centuries boasted loyalty to the Crown! Seven Darklyn sons who were risen to kingsguard and one of them was even a founding member during Aegon the Conqueror’s reign. That’s more than any house can boast of. Tis a shame. A real dishonor” Ser Eldon declared passionately, distaste clear on his face. 

“They refuse the summons to come to the capital and instead insist for the King or I to go to Duskendale and settle the matter there. It’s a preposterous demand” Lord Baratheon lamented then took another sip.

“A highly dangerous one” the soft but clear voice of the young Lady Sansa followed next.

They all turned their heads to her as one. Silence reigned for a while before amused smiles showed up in the faces of the men except for Rhaegar and Lord Lannister. 

Rhaegar has been around the girl many times now to know that despite their strange first encounter and her young age, she did have a sharp mind to her.

It all began that day in the orphanage. Watching and scrutinizing the girl’s actions made him agree with Arthur—there’s more to her than meets the eye. 

The girl was a curious study in contrasts—from her physical appearance, speech, actions and behavior. She’s like a puzzle with pieces that just won’t fit. It’s become an interesting and challenging game trying to figure her out.

A Lannister not of gold but red hair. Dual-colored eyes instead of just the expected emerald green. Skin not tanned or golden but milky white. Not even more than ten but with the bearing of, dare he say, someone born to royalty. She could be absolutely proper and sometimes blank to other nobilities then warm and gentle and kind to common children. She could be terse to some during conversations in the Red Keep then passionate in talking about matters she found interesting with others—like baking lemon cakes with push-cart bakers, discussing textile and their make and origins with traders and different embroidery techniques with old dressmakers, in the filthy streets of the city, while wearing an expensive gown and surrounded with guards. Naturally graceful but a wrong or strange noise and she looked poised for fight or flight just as Arthur pointed out moons ago. Eyes sharp like a hawk. A mind like a maester’s library. And so many more idiosyncrasies he is discovering the more time he spent with her.

Yes, Rhaegar has decided to spend time with her not just to figure her out but also because her method in garnering the people’s love and admiration seem to be quite effective. He has decided to work with her in her charities. She may have her father’s gold and influence but he has more power, more pull to his title as Crown Prince that attracted even more people to become supportive of what they’re doing for the weak and destitute in the city. Their charity work also gave him justifiable reasons to interact with more influential nobles than before without causing too much ire to the king.

Just a month of working with the Lady Sansa and his star has risen even higher, the people’s cheers even louder, the number of nobles expressing support even greater.

 _She’s a useful ally,_ he finally admitted, _one who will help further my goals when I finally sit the Iron Throne._

Like before, he decided to sit and watch the conversation play out first. There’s no need to join yet.

“You think the destitute Darklyns dangerous, little lady?” Lord Steffon asked with a laugh.

Lord Eldon followed suit. Lady Cassana and Ser Lomas gave the girl gentle smiles. His Lady Mother gave the girl a quiet, assessing stare while Stannis just looked stunned as if unbelieving the girl has spoken.

Rhaegar silently approved when the girl did not even twitch or blink her eyes in the face of barely restrained mockery. “Not the Darklyns my lord, but the situation. Should their demand that the King or you Lord Hand go to Duskendale be granted, it could be a potentially dangerous move. ”

“They’re not so foolish nor dishonorable as to harm the King or his Hand. And should King Aerys or the Lord Baratheon go, they will be under the laws of Guest Rights” Ser Eldon interrupted rudely with which led to Lady Cassana giving him a glare.

Rhaegar moved his eyes and observed the girl’s father. The Lord Lannister remained silent, his face neutral. It was interesting to note the Great Lion did not put a stop to his daughter’s speech nor did he do anything to rescue her from the heating discussion. 

With surprise, he came to realize the Lion lord was that confident with his daughter. He had faith and believed her capable enough to let her fight her own battles. A battle of words at least in this case.

Rhaegar watched the girl again. The Lady Sansa's face remained calm but he thought her blue eye looked like a blue chip of ice.

She looked at Ser Eldon first then turned to Lord Baratheon, “The Darklyns refuse to come to the capital because they fear an attack from the Crown, this is obvious enough. Fear, starvation, a future of nothing but penury and death and utter ruin—my lords should know by now these are enough to make men lose sight of reason. When reason is thrown out of the window, stupidity will set in. And stupidity knows no bounds—decisions become suspect, mistakes will happen one after another and situations will worsen, possibly leading to desperate choices like having to choose between life or death. In a struggle for survival, not even laws will matter, Guest Rights included.”

“What do you suggest then my lady? They refuse to come, but you advise the King or I must not go. How would you resolve this? By sending an army?” the Lord Hand challenged. 

“Invite them for a dialogue and negotiations under a peace banner in a place of neutrality, my lord. Not here in the Red Keep where they’ll feel threatened nor at Duskendale where all manner of dangers lurk and things could potentially get worse. Look for someone who will play a neutral arbitrator. Agree on a number of guards each party can bring.”

“And what is a dialogue worth when the charter they’re demanding is not possible?” Ser Eldon scoffed, “As you have heard little lady, what they ask for is impossible”

“Thus the need for negotiation as I mentioned my lord. Surely you’re not saying to give up on finding a solution without even trying? A dialogue would give the Darklyns a chance to air out their grievances and feel they’re being listened to instead of ignored. It will also be an opportunity for the Crown to propose terms they can choose from. Terms like…like tax relief until such time they switch to other trades and fully recover from their losses or a low-interest loan grant from the Crown for them to use and invest in other businesses for example.”

Ser Eldon chuckled and looked at the Lady Sansa patronizingly, “Those are indeed pretty suggestions little lady but what you fail to understand is that what House Darklyn is doing is simply unlawful. Refusing to pay your taxes is an offense and thus must be punished accordingly”

Lady Sansa raised her chin and looked the knight directly in the eyes with her own strange, intense-looking ones, “The actions of House Darklyn are indeed unlawful, their demands seemingly ridiculous. But if you stop for a while from judging which is lawful and not and instead look deeper, you’ll see their actions come from a place of reason. No sane men would sit by and watch as their innocent children and wives live in abject poverty when something could be done about it. No honorable and dutiful lord worth their title would give up trying to save their house and people from certain ruin. Because that’s what this is all about my lords—these are not just ambitious men acting merely for gain but men who want to save the lives and future of their loved ones. If this fate had befallen you, your house and your lands, would you not do the same as they have done?”

An awkward silence followed after Lady Sansa’s question until the Queen spoke up, voice soft and gentle but regal just the same, “I would like to say I agree with the Lady Sansa. There are still many things that can be done to prevent this situation from going worse or ending in tragedy my Lord Hand. Why not try to resolve the issue first instead of giving up and resorting to violence?”

“I too agree,” Rhaegar decided to finally speak up, his voice strong, “A neutral place for dialogue and arbitration does sound the best solution. Think of the women and little children my lords, the many innocent and poor souls who are suffering and will continue to suffer even more should this dilemma be left unaddressed. This banditry problem that keeps worsening is a result of this, I believe. Many poor people resorting to criminal activities due to having nothing else to do for a living. If the problem is resolved through negotiations, then we also pave the way to reducing the crime rates between the Riverlands and the Crownlands.”

The Lord Hand’s face lit up,“Why don't you join the council Your Highness? You could present this idea then”

Rhaegar tamped down the urge to frown, “I’m afraid that won’t be a wise move my lord”

_With father jealous and suspicious of me, it’s not a good idea at all._


	23. Lyanna/Sansa/Tywin

Lyanna

Brandon’s dead but at least he’s free. She, on the other hand, has become even more of a prisoner than before.

It’s all wrong. Everything’s gone wrong since Casterly Rock. It’s like a curse was placed on them in that shitty place full of shitty Lannisters.

First she met the perfect little lady Lannister who deceived everyone with her perfect manners but she was in truth just another manipulative witch like her ancestor Lann the Clever.

Because of the little witch, her father deprived her of attending the Tourney at Highgarden after having travelled all that way south.

Then, next Lyanna learned, the girl’s betrothal with Bran was called off. Don’t get her wrong, she’s happy it failed and she wouldn't have to call and endure seeing a lioness Lady Stark in the future.

What she’s not happy about is the manner the Lannisters handled it. First they pursued her brother then when a better opportunity came, they simply discarded him. They weren’t satisfied with Lady of Winterfell. They wanted the witch to be The Queen. What a greedy lot. Lyanna's already fearing the time when she becomes Queen. Targaryens and Lannisters, what a frightening thought!

And now—now her Father is blaming and punishing her for Bran’s death.

It wasn’t her fault! She just raced with Bran, she didn’t plan for him to die.

She wished the awful, pinched-faced septa her father asked the Manderly’s to send from White Harbor would just keel over and die. She can only take so much lessons in etiquette like how to walk and talk and eat and stupid lady activities like embroidering and sewing. It's slowly driving her crazy.

And a betrothal! As if she’s nothing but cattle to be traded. As if she has no feelings and wishes of her own.

A marriage to the Lord Hand’s son he says. An honor and a huge help to the North he says.

Well she doesn’t care! Ned may be fine with being betrothed to a stupid trout he doesn't even know but not her. She doesn’t want to marry someone she doesn’t love. It doesn’t matter what Ned says about his friend. She hasn’t even met Robert Baratheon!

Perhaps she should just run away. She can go to Essos and join the Roses. There she can do whatever she wants and not have to follow commands of men like sheep to the slaughter.

She can do it. She knows and she's confident she can. All she has to do is pilfer enough gold and prepare provisions to travel to White Harbor and get passage to Braavos. There she can begin a new life free of constraints and people always telling her what to do.

***

Sansa 

The sounds she heard from outside were terrible. Soldiers shouting. Swords clanging. Loud wailing.

 _Run_. That had been Septa Mordane’s last word to her.

Sansa ran like she never did before. Her hands clutched the cumbersome skirts of her gown up for easier movement while her eyes darted left and right for an escape or a place where she could hide and never be found. She was almost to the end of the long corridor when suddenly, a black cat followed by a familiar little girl ran across her. 

“Arya!” she called out but the girl just ignored her in favor running after the cat. 

“Arya come back!” she shouted again, anger laced her voice now. Something wrong has happened and they needed to run, to escape, and Arya was acting deaf and blind to her.

The sounds were getting closer. She panicked. She cannot just leave Arya behind and she didn’t want to be alone either. Not seeing any other choice, she ran after her sister calling out, “Arya wait for me!”

When she was ignored once more, Sansa got furious. _When I get my hands on you Arya,_ she thought angrily, _I’m going to spank you so hard with my slippers you won’t be able to sit for a moon._

She hurriedly followed her wild sister and the cat and they led her to a narrow hallway. Sansa paused at the entryway. It was dark and it looked terrifying but Arya was there somewhere. She can’t give up, turn craven and simply leave.

Steeling herself, she walked forward. A few steps and she saw a little light at the end. She ran forward but before she reached the end, she heard the sound of metals clanging. Fearing she was in danger, she stopped. Still as a statue and hidden in the dark she listened to determine what was going on. 

There were more than one footsteps but she doesn't know exactly how many. 

_The gods alone know,_ the first speaker, a familiar voice said, _The fools tried to kill his son. What’s worse, they botched it. The wolf and the lion will be at each other’s throats. We will be at war soon my friend._

Sansa frowned in confusion, _What talk is this? Why are these men talking about a wolf and a lion trying to kill each other? What war? There’s been peace under King Robert for many years now. How could there be a war?_

People passed by her hiding place, their footsteps soft. Sansa took small quiet breaths to avoid getting their attention.

The second person spoke, _What good is war now? We’re not ready. If one hand can die, why not a second?_

 _This hand is not the other,_ the first person replied.

 _Hand?_ Sansa’s mind raced, _Are they talking about father?_

 _We need time,_ the unfamiliar one spoke once more, _Khal Drogo will not make his move until his son is born. You know how these savages are._

 _Khal Drogo who?_ Sansa asked herself and tried to search the name in her memories but failed. She couldn’t remember any great house with that name. But it sure felt like she should know the person.

The men conversing were moving far away from her place of hiding now, their voices going faint. She continued breathing normally. 

The familiar voice she still couldn’t put a name or face to spoke again, _Delay you say. Move fast I reply. This is no longer a game for two players._

 _It never was,_ was the last soft reply she heard from the second man and then they were gone.

With a terrible feeling in the pit of her stomach, Sansa took several deep breaths, mind spinning. _Hand. Wolf. Lion. War. What did all those mean? Did the conversation have anything to do with the terrible sounds from outside earlier? Has the Red Keep been attacked?_

After taking a peek and ensuring there weren’t dangers lurking, she stepped out of her hiding place. She needed to find Arya then she needed to find and talk to her father and tell him what she heard. She had to—because it sounded ominous. It sounded very dangerous. War is terrible and dangerous.

“Arya?” she called out softly, “Arya are you here? Are you hiding? Come out. Come out now. We have to go to father.”

After several minutes of worriedly searching and not finding her sister, Sansa decided she must have gone to a different area. She had to retrace her steps. She looked back at the darkened hallway and shivered in fear. 

_No,_ she shook her head, _I can be brave. I must be brave. Like father, like Robb, like Jon. I am a Stark of Winterfell. These halls got nothing compared to the crypts of the dead Starks underneath Winterfell._

Her confidence improved, she went back through the dark hallway, her hands trailing the walls. She walked until she saw some light up ahead but stopped abruptly, fearing she made another wrong turn when she heard the familiar voice from before.

 _Prince Oberyn_ , the voice said.

 _Lord Varys_ , a new accented voice replied.

Sansa almost gasped. _Lord Varys! Master of Whisperers from the King’s Small Council. It was him! And…Prince Oberyn? Prince Oberyn Martell of Dorne? What is he doing here?_

With silent steps, she went closer to the end of the dark hallway and tried to get a glimpse of the people talking. Indeed the first person was Lord Varys but the other man’s back was to her. She only took note he had dark hair and was dressed richly.

_Only Varys, I’m not actually a nobleman no one is under any obligation to call me lord._

_And yet everyone does,_ the Martell Prince replied.

There was a small pause before Lord Varys spoke again, _You seemed quite knowledgeable about the Unsullied, did you spend much time in Essos?_

 _Five years,_ Prince Oberyn replied.

 _May I ask why?_ Was Lord Varys' follow-up question.

 _Tis a big and beautiful world,_ the prince said, _most of us live and die in the same corner where we were born and, never get to see any of it. I don’t want to be most of us._

 _Most of us aren’t princes,_ Lord Varys replied. 

_Hm, you… are from Essos. Where? Lys. I have an ear for accents._ Prince Oberyn’s tone sounded confrontational. 

_I’ve lost my accent entirely,_ was Lord Varys’ softer reply. 

_I have an ear for that as well,_ was Prince Oberyn’s swift response.

The conversation may seem normal to some but to Sansa, it felt as though the two were barely keeping themselves from being hostile to each other. She decided then it wasn’t safe to just suddenly appear.

 _How did you get here?_ Prince Oberyn asked, a hint of intrigue in his voice.

 _It’s a long story,_ Lord Varys’ voice was soft once more. His tone made Sansa think he didn’t want to provide more details to the Prince of Dorne. 

_One you don’t like telling people_ , Prince Oberyn declared.

 _People I trust,_ another short response from Lord Varys. 

_My paramour Ellaria should find you very interesting. You should come to the brothel and meet her,_ Prince Oberyn invited, _We’ve brought our own wine, not the swill they serve here. We have some lovely boys to entertain her but… you did like boys, before._

There was no response from Lord Varys this time.

Paramours. Brothels. Boys for entertainment. The words all made Sansa squirm uncomfortably. The conversation has gone to indecent and scandalous topics and she wanted to flee and continue her search for Arya but fear of being found out and being outed as an eavesdropper by two men of such high positions—that’s a reputation she never wanted to have.

 _Really?_ The prince asked and made an undecipherable sound of disbelief, _I hope you would not be offended if I say I never would have guessed._

 _Not at all. But I was never interested in girls either_ , Lord Varys responded.

 _What then?_ Prince Oberyn asked. 

_Nothing._ Was the short response from the other man. He always gave short answers, she noticed, and never provided explanation.

 _Everybody is interested in something._ Prince Oberyn sounded disbelieving once more.

 _Not me. When I see what desire does to people, what it’s done to this country, I am very glad I had no part in it. Besides, the absence of desire leaves one to pursue other things._ Lord Varys’ tone had a mysterious sound to it.

 _Such as?_ Prince Oberyn asked.

Sansa didn’t hear the response. She felt something slam her from behind and she fell. She screamed in fright and tried to use her hands to break her fall on the floor. But there was no floor—she just continued falling and falling in the dark.

Then she felt hands clutch and shake her shoulders and somebody called her name.

Sansa jolted with a gasp and opened the eyes she hadn’t thought she closed. She saw two worried faces looming over her from both sides—Maege and Lysarra.

“Lady Sansa? Are you conscious now? Can you hear me?” Lysarra asked as she picked up Sansa’s hand then gently squeezed it.

Sansa blinked several times. A dream. Another dream.

“I’m awake now. Thank you” she croaked. She swallowed then winced when she felt the dryness of her throat.

Maege went to the side table and poured water on a goblet then returned to her side and gave it to her. Sansa nodded in thanks and drank thirstily.

“My lady, are you alright? That was quite the nightmare this time” The warrior woman looked at her with concern.

“I am fine now Maege, thank you. It was just a dream. Just another dream”

“Your night terrors seem to be worsening my lady, would you like me to make you something to help you sleep better?” Lysarra offered while looking at her intently, “Perhaps a sleeping draught or milk with a pinch of sweetsleep or dreamwine?”

“No. No sleeping draughts or anything please” Sansa immediately refused, knowing that dependence on any form of medicine will not help her in anyway and could only be another weakness for others to exploit when discovered, “I will learn to handle it. I’ll just take short naps during the day if it becomes absolutely necessary”

She sighed when she received more worried and doubtful looks, “I am fine. If… if I feel I can no longer handle it, then I’ll ask for your help Arra. I swear it”

“Very well, as you say my lady” the Lyseni woman nodded then smiled gently.

Sansa sighed in relief and got up from bed to go through her morning preparations, mind recalling the dream all the while.

 _Lord Varys_ , she thought, _I haven’t thought of him that much. I haven’t even seen hide nor shadow of him. Does that mean he’s not employed by the King yet? But he was already serving Aerys by the time the Tourney of Harrenhal and war happened, so that means he’s going to be in the capital soon enough._

Varys the Spider they called him. The Master of Whisperers whose trade was secrets and lies. The man even Littlefinger feared. A man Sansa knew she should be very wary of. 

The eunuch can use his wide vocabulary and say the prettiest words to anyone who would listen that his goal was serving the realm and the common people but Sansa will never trust him. She’s seen and known enough not to realize he’s just another player playing the game for his own interests.

Varys had served the Mad King Aerys, had whispered who knew what terrible secrets in his ears that caused the Mad King to be even crueler and perhaps pushed him to commit many more acts with impunity.

Varys had served the wastrel King Robert for almost two decades. As Master of Whisperers, she wouldn’t believe him if he told he had no knowledge about Cersei and Jaime and their bastards. For years Varys had probably kept what he knew and sat on it to wait for a more favorable time and better outcome for himself or his allies. And if the dream was to go by, it seemed he did have a hand in the war or had planned for another war before everything happened.

And the rest of the dream… 

Lord Varys' and Prince Oberyn’s voice. The mention of Ellaria Sand who she’s recognized from her past life was the beautiful paramour of the Dornish Prince. (She saw them at Joffrey and Margaery’s wedding, had been quietly scandalized by their amorous acts in the midst of so many guests.)

And the subjects of both conversations she overheard—the mention of bastards, of unearthing truths, the talk about Hands, the lion and the wolf going against each other, the war, Khal Drogo, savages, the Unsullied.

She recognized all of them now. 

_It was no mere dream_ , she decided. _How can it be when all the people in it were real? When everything that was mentioned in it were all real? But the more important question is why. Why am I dreaming these things?_

***

The Red Keep’s atmosphere was tense. The King, the Lord Commander Gerold Hightower and Ser Gwayne Gaunt of the kingsguard along with ten more men chosen from the Royal army for additional protection and retinue of servants have just departed the capital for Duskendale.

Against his Small Council’s recommendations and pleas for caution, King Aerys decided and was very confident that he can handle the Darklyns and their demands. He repeatedly shot down any suggestions from the Lord Hand to go in his stead. He only agreed to bring two of his kingsguards and ten more men for protection.

Sansa already feared the outcome. Yes there has been a very small change with another kingsguard and additional guards but it wasn’t enough.

They were in one of the private harbors of the castle facing the Blackwater, having a small picnic, drinking wine, singing songs and lazily watching the passing merchant ships to escape the stifling air of the Red Keep. Sansa was positive this would be one of the last moments of peace and sanity they’ll have for a long while.

The ladies of Bear Island have decided to set up a target range and conducted an archery competition which many of the men have decided to join. Sansa took Lysarra’s hands and invited her for walk by the shore. Ser Oswell immediately tried to follow and keep guard.

“Please Ser, we won’t be far. There’s none here but us. We’ll stay within sight so you can still keep guard. I wish to speak with my maid regarding a concern of the female kind”

The knight looked uncomfortable upon hearing her and simply nodded his head.

“Men! They’re ridiculous. They‘re always thinking and lusting after women but talk about a female’s concern and they turn craven” Lysarra snorted then giggled.

Sansa laughed with her. She’s sure Lysarra’s speech isn’t the right kind for servants nor appropriate for her age but Sansa decided not to ask her to change. It comforted her not being treated like a child all the time. And her bluntness reminded her of Shae—one of the few who’d been kind in a way and spoke plainly with her instead of playing with words and making her guess her real intentions all the time. 

“You wished to speak with me my lady? Is this about the sleeping problems?” the Lyseni woman asked. 

“No, not that. There are some things I’d like to ask you Arra. But not yet. Let’s walk some more where none can hear or read our lips” 

The Lyseni looked puzzled but agreed, “Alright”

Lysarra, she’s come to learn, is no new Lannister worker. She has worked for Tywin for around seven years now thus her good grasp of the Common Tongue. She’s served him since she was only ten and seven. She’s in her mid-twenties now but still young-looking. Moons of observing while the woman acted as her servant and protection has given her confidence of the woman’s character and loyalty. 

When they reached a distance Sansa was sure would not allow anyone to overhear and with their backs to their companions, she began to speak. 

“You came from Lys, did you not? Were you born there also Arra?”

“Yes, Lys born and bred my lady” the woman smiled wryly. 

“Do you know any man by the name of Varys?”

Sansa felt the woman tense through their linked arms before she asked a question of her own. 

“Where did you hear that name my lady? 

“Somewhere. Did you know him from Lys?”

“Know him, I do not. But know OF him, I do. There were unconfirmed rumors he was born in Lys, some say Myr, but what is certain is he now resides in Pentos. But he does continue to have dealings with most free cities in Essos, last I heard, Lys included. He's got a terrible reputation in a few circles. He’s a dangerous person my lady, someone you should stay far away from.”

“And how did you come to know of him? What have you heard?”

The woman sighed deep before answering, “My mother, when she was still alive—she worked for whores and pleasure houses and even the poorer whorehouses outside of the city you see. She provided various remedies and such to prevent unwanted pregnancies and other diseases. Those of us who work with poisons cannot help but dabble in medicines and other remedies, it’s practically part of the trade. In the poorer whorehouses, there were few rumors of orphaned and unwanted children being taken in by that man. Few rumors has it, he trained and used them as little birds to collect and write songs for him. People say the children can do anything like climb walls and roofs and chimneys but they do not speak so that means only one thing”

“Their tongues were cut off to prevent them from talking to others, making them work for him and only him. None would think children with such incapacity able to read and write and pass information”

“Aye, that is so” the woman nodded.

“So you never met him face to face? Never interacted with him?”

“Never. Not a single instance I can think of. Why worry for that man my lady? He’s in Pentos, faraway from here”

“Information brokers and those dealing with espionage and sabotage go to the highest bidders who can afford to pay their price. Who would you consider the highest bidders here in Westeros?”

“You think he’s working for some people here?”

“That is a possibility we cannot dismiss” Sansa replied while thinking, _If not yet, it will be._

“Well, if it comes to that, your lord father has the gold” 

“But not the only person with gold” she looked the woman in the eye. 

“Ah, yes, you do have a point.”

Sansa stopped walking and looked at the woman from head to foot, “Have you ever changed your appearance or is this how you’ve always looked?”

The woman looked at her with amusement, “I’ve never seen the need to care for my appearance or change it my lady.”

“I ask you now Arra, please, change the color of your hair, change its style too, change how you dress. None must get any hint you are from Lys or what profession you truly work in”

Lysarra looked at her with a grave expression, “You think me compromised? Lord Lannister had me in his employ for years now my lady”

“I do not know. But let us take precautions while early still. I want you to be safe.”

Arra patted her arm gently, “Alright. I will do as you asked my lady”

“There are two more things I would ask of you”

“Name them”

“Would you know how to make something that would upset the stomach and cause the person to keep going to the privy chamber for a while? Or cause terrible headaches mayhap?”

“Yes. Do you require it? What for? My lady, I didn’t think you have it in you to be so cruel! Tell me you aren’t going to kill someone by making them shit til they die in the privy. What a terrible, ignoble death that would be!” the woman threw her head back in laughter.

“No. No killing. Just a bit of revenge and a way of reminding someone of their human frailty, I assure you. I don’t need it yet but would you make some for me and keep them ready for when the right time comes?"

“Ah, Lannisters always pay their debts, is it? Alright. I will make you some. And your second request?”

“Sleep with me the next moon and tell me about your poisons—the truly dangerous ones.”

The woman’s blue eyes sharpened at her, “You want to learn to make poisons?”

“No, not learn to make but how to identify and avoid them and if taken, how to counter them quickly. I’m in a very dangerous position Arra, wouldn’t you agree? I just want to be prepared for anything”

Lysarra took on a thoughtful look for a while then spoke, “Hm… There is this method we call Mithridatism. It’s the practice of protecting oneself from poisons by gradually taking in small dosages thereby building immunity. It’s effective on some but not against all kinds of poisons. It’s not without its own dangers, of course”

Sansa instantly shot the idea down, “No! I don’t want to accidentally kill or incapacitate myself by willingly taking in poison, small dosages or otherwise. Never. Banish that thought please Arra”

“Alright. But where is this coming from my lady? Are you afraid someone will try?”

“I’ve read enough of history, the House Targaryen and the Throne to remain naïve and ignorant of my position. Valar morghulis. Isn’t that what they say in some places in Essos? All men must die. I am no man. I am a woman but I, too, am vulnerable to death like all men. And because all men and women die, it only follows, anyone Can be killed. But I don’t want to die young Arra. That would be very boring and a waste. There’s so much more to experience in this life, more people to meet, places to go and things to see of the world. I want to prolong mine as much as I can and do all the things I could possibly do. So I’m asking your help now, I want to learn how to keep myself safe”

“You are a very interesting creature my lady. Would that I could read minds, it would be a great prize to read yours indeed. You have one of the most interesting brains I think, along with your father. Alright. You can be my sort-of-protégé. The first and last, for I will never bear children of my own nor do I have plans taking in followers”

“You have my gratitude Arra”

***

Tywin 

Tywin walked calmly to the Small Council chamber, surrounded by his four chosen red guards.

All around him the Red Keep was in a state of fear and uproar. Word has spread like wildfire that the incompetent Aerys' negotiation with the Darklyns has gone sideways. Duskendale was now considered in rebellion against the Crown. One kingsguard was dead along with the ten men who went with them.

And the fool king? Lounging inside the Dun Fort as a hostage along with the Lord Commander of his kingsguard. The King of the Seven Kingdoms reduced to the impoverished Darklyns' prison cells like a common criminal. Ha! What a king he is.

Steffon has called for an emergency Small Council meeting with Crown Prince Rhaegar in attendance to discuss how the situation would be handled no doubt and talk about securing the line of succession .

Tywin was not concerned however. Aerys could rot in his cell or die for all he cared. His death would only be a boon for the Seven Kingdoms.

Oh how hard he had tried to keep a smile from forming on his face when he got word of what befell Aerys.

It’s a good thing that he was no longer Hand. Now Steffon would have to deal with Aerys' stupidity and make the difficult decisions. Tywin can afford to calmly sit back and enjoy the entertainment.

“What are their terms Lord Hand?” Prince Rhaegar asked calmly. He appeared to be unruffled by what happened to his father and Tywin secretly approved of his demeanor.

“The Darklyn’s terms are the same as before Your Highness, my lords. A charter similar to Dorne’s for the entirety of Duskendale and a full unconditional pardon for the events when all this is over” Steffon reported, blue eyes stormy and his impressive Baratheon jaws furiously clenching and unclenching.“

“How dare they still make such demands! A full unconditional pardon?! Their entire house should be put to the sword, their fields burned and salted for their treason and disloyalty against the king” Lucerys Velaryon, the Master of Ships, raged. His face was red and his mouth almost frothing. The man’s reaction was no surprise to Tywin. He was always Aerys' number one lickspittle in the council.

“I concur! Such preposterous terms. And such vile acts! Why, theirs is a sin not just to the King but to the gods whose holy oils were poured upon the anointed King’s head” Grandmaester Pycelle reacted with such indignation. A mummer’s act, but not one that will ever convince him. The quietly ambitious man is in Tywin’s pocket, willing to grovel at his feet.

“There is nothing else to be done while the King is kept hostage but to face the Darklyns, I’m afraid. Who shall go Lord Hand?” the Master of Laws Lord Symond Staunton, another of Aerys' loyal lapdogs, asked with deep furrows on his forehead.

“I have called the banners and shall lead the host myself. A fortnight to a moon should be enough to gather the men and necessary provisions. Ser Barristan and Ser Jonothor will both go with me. Ser Lewyn will guard the Queen and Prince Viserys, Ser Arthur and Ser Oswell will ensure the safety of the Crown Prince Rhaegar”

Steffon then turned to the prince, “My Prince, please, your safety is paramount at this point. I beseech you to always remain on your guard and stay within castle walls. We do not know if they have people within. It’s best to stay on the side of caution”

Rhaegar nodded, “I understand Lord Hand, I will do as you asked”

“Thank you your Highness. Lord Velaryon” Steffon turned to the Master of Ships, “I trust you would send word to have the fleet docked at Dragonstone mobilized and set up a blockade so they won’t have an opportunity to escape by sea?”

“Yes Lord Hand. I assure you not even a dinghy boat will escape the Blackwater Bay and the Narrow Sea” Velaryon boasted.

More discussions followed. Of preparing another host on standby to march when necessary. Increasing the guards for both Prince Rhaegar and Prince Viserys, increasing city patrols for any surprise attacks. By the time they ended, it was close to midnight.

“Good. While I am gone I am appointing Lord Lannister as Acting Hand” Steffon looked him in the eye after having declared so, his expression implacable.

Tywin narrowed his eyes at the man but nodded his head once.

***

“Go ahead and laugh at my misfortune, you sly bastard” Steffon muttered, nursing a goblet of wine.

Tywin did not even raise his brow at the slur. He just sat silent and watched the man drown his misery in his cups.

He’s known Steffon since childhood. He knows that as much as the man acted a proper lord in public, he turns into a blunt, sometimes uncouth man in private, especially when drunk.

“Fucking Aerys the Fool. What does it say when a ten year old girl and his son half his age shows more wisdom? This will have consequences, I know it. The Darklyns won’t live. He’ll have them all killed and turn even more suspicious and cruel.”

Stormy blue and pale green eyes flecked with gold met one moment then broke connection the next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Scenes from GOT: S01E05 and S04E06


	24. Sansa/Arthur/Cersei

Sansa

Lys or Myr. Pentos or Volantis. Or anywhere in the world. Spices or silks. Wheat or wine. Or anything in the world.

Will they reach their destination? Or will they get caught in an unexpected storm and get blown off course? Will they survive if they’re attacked by pirates or will they sink to the bottom of the sea, never to be seen and heard of again?

Aerys or Rhaegar?

Let Aerys live and madness will reign. Lives will be lost and many more at risk. She herself have much that will be endangered—Tywin, Tygett, Gerion and so many Lannister people and servants in the city, the gold and support of the West. And the longer Aerys reigns, the more the Seven Kingdoms will be divided and could possibly go to war. Wildfire caches will be stored beneath the city with half a million people ignorant of the danger. Only this time, Jaime Lannister won’t be standing beside the Mad King to plunge his sword on the king’s back and wear the title of Kingslayer.

Let Aerys die and Rhaegar becomes king and the future will become even more uncertain. He might get impatient waiting and set her aside for another or he might not. He might rule better than his father ever has or he might do the same crazy shit he’s done in the past and throw Westeros into another war.

Targaryens. Why is it the rest of the world always have to deal with their shit every time they decide to take a crap?

Sansa sighed heavily as she watched the two ships sailing in the distance, her hand playing with the lion pendant of her necklace, an expensive gift from her father.

If only her problems and the repercussions of her choices were just as small and negligible as the two ships about to vanish on the horizon.

***

Observing was easy. Planning was easy. But executing plans? That’s an entirely different beast to conquer. One she needed her dear father for.

“By my estimation, in a fortnight, the royal armies would be prepared enough to march to Duskendale. Any plans you’d maybe like to share father?”

Green-gold eyes simply flicked to her across the table then returned to the scroll they’d been perusing for a few minutes now.

“No to plans or no to sharing?” Sansa wheedled.

When Tywin remained taciturn, Sansa knew he won't give her answers and decided to get down to business, “With a blade on the King’s neck, Lord Baratheon won’t be able to storm the castle. The most logical thing to do would be to send out a very small party of the deadliest warriors to attempt a rescue. Who would be daring enough to do such a thing?”

Tywin put down the scroll he was reading and finally focused on her, “I assume you’re going to get to your point soon enough”

Sansa continued her prepared speech, “Jonothor Darry is more of a follower despite his kingsguard status. Compared to the others, he’s quite mediocre really. But Barristan the Bold, the painter who only used red—talented, dutiful and hungry for fame and glory and a place in history —that man will surely be the first to volunteer to go alone or lead a group to launch an attack. And his reputation would only bolster the morale of others to be daring enough. He must be removed.”

It had been very difficult but in the end, she’s decided. Between certain madness, cruelty and death on one hand and uncertain future on the other, she’d rather deal with the latter.

Rhaegar, she’s sure, will want to keep the Sword of the Morning with him. She’s seen how the two interacted. They’re friends, some sort of…equals.

The man who wields Dawn is far too important to let go. The replacement could only be either Oswell Whent or Lewyn Martell. Both were good but nowhere close to Barristan Selmy's level. It doesn’t matter who gets chosen between the two really. What matters is the removal of the man who had been Aerys' savior the first time around. 

She’s not queen yet. She can’t do anything overt that would jeopardize House Lannister and the future. She can only do small acts to change the events and leave the rest to chance. This—removing Barristan Selmy—if the king dies, none will connect and think the two events related. 

“His untimely death right now will only cause suspicions”

“I am not talking about killing him father, simply removing him from the game board. You do have discreet, loyal people running around don’t you? And with Pycelle in your pocket…”

***

Sansa watched the Queen Rhaella as she gently transferred the baby Viserys to the arms of his nurse. The babe looked peaceful asleep, his cherubic face not showing the reportedly cruel and just as mad prince he grew up to be.

Queen Rhaella looked radiant and serene in the face of King Aerys' captivity. Her eyes are brighter and the pallor of her skin healthier. It’s a good look on her. 

_She’d be even more beautiful if Aerys would just die and make himself useful to maggots_ , she thought. 

“Come child, walk with me in the gardens. I know the atmosphere inside the Red Keep could be stifling, especially at this time. Let’s go somewhere we could relax and just be.”

The Queen extended an arm to her so Sansa stood up from her seat and gently linked hers with it.

“Your mother and I, we spent quite some time together when she was my lady-in-waiting” Queen Rhaella shared with a wistful quality to her tone while they passed the rows of blooming red roses, “Despite what you may have heard, Joanna was a good friend to me. A very good friend. I grieved when I heard of her death. It must have been terrible for you child, to lose your beloved mother so young—you have my sympathies”

“Thank you Your Grace” Sansa replied quietly, feeling a little awkward at the subject. 

The Queen slowly stopped and looked at her with appraising eyes from head to foot “Your beauty don’t come from her, I think. But you do have her grace and ease in interacting with people. The rest, I believe, are from your father”

“Is that a good thing or not, Your Grace?” Sansa asked, genuinely wondering what the woman’s views are. 

Dutiful, graceful and kind Queen Rhaella may be but Sansa won’t simply dismiss her. She will not underestimate this woman who has survived and remained sane in her years of being married to Aerys. 

Men tend to think just because women are of the fairer, physically weaker sex, they’re not capable of thinking better than them. A foolish thought. Olenna Tyrell, Cersei Lannister, Daenerys Targaryen—those women had been better than most men, for good, ill or worse. 

“If you continue as you are in applying it to doing good service to others I don’t see any problems” the Queen patted her hand gently. 

_Use it for ill or against House Targaryen and it’ll be a problem_ , were the words left unsaid but Sansa understood completely.

“It seems to me, your father already gave you the necessary tutors to teach you the ways of court. I personally believe I have little left to teach you"

"I am still very young Your Grace" Sansa demurred, "I still have much to learn, especially dealing with the important ladies of court. Learned theories afterall are vastly different from practice"

"As I said, you have your mother's grace. I am confident you will be able to adapt soon enough. And besides, I heard from Ser Lewyn of the charitable works you and my son are working on. It's a great foundation to build upon. You can use it to reach out and interact more with the ladies while at the same time contributing to the good of the Crown and the people. Keep it up"

"Thank you Your Grace"

"I am also glad that you and my son have found a common ground. I can only imagine how hard it must be to you both, what with the disparity in your ages” 

“Thank you for saying so Your Grace. Yes, I am thankful there is something in common between his highness and I”

 _Your son is an arse_ , Sansa thought with irritation, _but no mother would feel happy hearing that and you don’t deserve to be hurt more than you already have._

After that first visit in the orphanage, Rhaegar has seen fit to invite himself and join in her charitable works. He's also started joining her in her walks through the city markets, making small talks with people along the way, showing even more acts of benevolence and generosity.

She’s not against his help—they’re both working on the betterment of innocent children and those in need of help while building a good image to the people.

What makes her blood boil is that he’s acting as if everything they’re doing were his ideas and plans all along, the arse.

“Tell me more about what it is you’re doing and what plans you have for the future. Perhaps I can do more to help”

The Queen’s voice was soft but it still held an authority to it. Sansa went on to share stories about the orphanage, even going as far as to share small funny anecdotes about the children that made the woman smile and laugh gently.

Rhaella is no Cersei. She doesn’t see Sansa as an enemy, that at least she knows and is thankful of. It won’t harm to be in the Queen’s good side. Who knows, it might prove beneficial someday.

***

Arthur 

Arthur watched as Prince Rhaegar, Lord Baratheon, Lord Lannister, Ser Jonothor and Ser Lewyn talked.

The two kingsguards and the Lord Hand, along with the gathered host, were finally marching to Duskendale to rescue the King and put down the rebelling House Darklyn.

Ser Barristan was supposed to go instead of Ser Lewyn but the famed bold knight suffered a case of bad stomach for several days. There had been fears he contracted the bloody flux and was immediately placed in isolation by Grand Maester Pycelle to prevent spreading the deadly disease. Strange though, the sickness only attacked sporadically. After that, they worried he was suffering with a damaged gut and would continue to get worse but it seems his sickness has abated and he’s on the way to healing now. Still, his time spent visiting the privy chamber caused the knight to weaken and lose much weight that he was deemed unfit to join and lead the armies.

“Whoever thought it would come to this?” Ser Oswell spoke from beside him, voice grave and also watching the proceedings.

Arthur’s eyes immediately located the red-haired girl standing stoically at a distance, surrounded by her own set of guards.

 _The Lady Sansa did,_ he thought, _and most likely, the Lord Lannister as well. Those two are frighteningly sharp. Like father, like daughter._

Such a puzzle that one.

From that first conversation she had with Prince Rhaegar in Highgarden’s godswood, Arthur thought her interesting. Not in a romantic light or anything disgusting but because of her person.

She’s unlike any little girl he’s met north of the Dornish Marches.

Most girls only think of acting like a lady, pretty gowns, handsome knights and princes, music and dances, a good marriage prospect. But not the little Lady Sansa.

The first thing that really caught his attention was how the girl talked and acted.

She's a very intelligent, well-read girl. It was a real surprise to hear her talk about many things normally not something young girls know or talk about. Who other Westerosi ten year old girls know Bakkalon the Pale Child, the favored deity of Essosi soldiers? 

She's also kind and generous, a surprising trait for a Lannister. The projects she's started doing in the city orphanages and how she interacted and treated the people around her were proofs of that.

And there's the hidden fighting capability.

Arthur is Dornish. All his life, he’s trained to be worthy of Dawn so he knows exactly what to look for to determine an opponent’s worth or threat.

He’s also been blessed to be born in the one region of the Seven Kingdoms where both sexes enjoy almost equal rights and privileges. Some Dornish women are trained to fight. He’s even fought some of them. So it is easy for him to see that Lord Lannister’s youngest daughter is trained to fight in some way or form.

Like many things since he’s donned the white cloak, he can’t decide if it’s good or bad.

On one hand, he approves. The world is full of dishonorable men. Women and girls should know how to wield a weapon and protect themselves from harm—especially the more beautiful ones as they attract more danger.

On the other, he’s wary. She is a Lannister, the daughter of Tywin Lannister. And her knowledge of wielding a blade makes her even more dangerous. He prays the time when they stand on opposite sides never come because he's genuinely come to like her. 

He sees great potential in her. A wise and good Queen to a strong, just and honorable King—she and Prince Rhaegar could be equal if not greater than King Jaehaerys I and Queen Alysanne. They’d be rulers Arthur would be proud to serve and sacrifice his life for. Unlike the king he’s serving now.

Lady Sansa's words during the Lord Hand’s name day dinner celebration have proven chillingly accurate. If he hadn’t heard the Lady Sansa herself speak of her loathing for prophecies, he’d think her a seer. Then again, perhaps he shouldn’t be surprised—she’s the daughter of the same man who ended two great houses before he even reached twenty.

He had personally thought her idea of conducting the negotiations in a different location a great one but he never really believed that the Darklyns would be capable of such treachery. Violation of Guest Rights? Taking the King hostage? Making themselves enemy of the Seven Kingdoms? He thought those were nothing but acts of madness and stupidity.

Something happened that soured the negotiations, but what exactly, they might never know the truth. But he’s certain, knowing the king, Aerys likely caused the supposedly diplomatic talks to fall apart.

The situation has indeed gotten much worse. Gwayne is dead. Ten knights belonging to the Royal Army are dead. Their King and the Lord Commander Hightower are both prisoner and hostages. And the Darklyns are still stubbornly fighting for the same cause.

“Well, they’ve sealed their fates. This will lead to nothing but the destruction if not complete annihilation of their house” Oswell's face was dark and his tone hard. 

Arthur did not answer but he silently agreed.

 _It’s an utter waste of lives,_ he personally thought, _If only more logical and cooler minds had prevailed. If only the king had not let his pride and stubbornness rule and listened to the advices of his council. If only the king possessed even half of Prince Rhaegar’s and Lady Sansa’s intelligence, goodness and honor_. 

But it’s all moot now. He knew the king would not forgive and would pay this debt in full with fire and blood.

***

Cersei 

Alysanne. Alysanne. That cursed name. When she becomes Queen, she’ll have it outlawed.

First she had to endure it with the little mongrel for years. Next she had to endure it with another woman.

Four years. That’s how long she’s been abandoned by her father in the hands of the sour Lord Lefford and his stupid, boring wife Alysanne.

 _But not anymore_ , Cersei smirked, secretly pleased and feeling accomplished as she watched the entire house Lefford grieve for their dear Lady Lefford who went to a sleep that will never end.

It had been so easy. So very easy. Just three doses of sweetsleep pilfered from the Maester’s rooms and the blasted woman is now forever gone. She cursed herself for not thinking of it sooner. She could have been free of them and returned to Casterly Rock sooner.

 _It doesn’t matter. This nightmare will be over and_ _I’ll soon be home—back to the place I was always meant to be._

She’ll have them both she swears. In time, she’ll have them both and she’ll exact her vengeance in full. Lannisters pay their debts. She’ll gladly pay hers. She’ll watch and laugh as they both die slowly and feed their bones to dogs afterwards. 

The Imp for killing her mother, the parent who tried to reach out and was good to her.

The dirty mongrel for taking away everything that was supposed to be hers—Father, Jaime, Casterly Rock, Prince Rhaegar, a future on the Iron Throne.

When the mongrel dies, Father will realize that she, Cersei, is the only hope of their house. He won’t have a choice but betroth her to Prince Rhaegar instead. She knows he will. The pride, position and legacy of House Lannister is at stake after all.

What is a useless second Prince of Dorne to the Crown Prince of the Seven Kingdoms? What is a Martell Princess to _The_ Queen? 


	25. Tywin/Sansa/Rickard

Tywin 

Tywin looked up from the letter he was writing as his daughter sat herself on the chair in front of his desk. He decided to let go of the quill when he observed that unlike previous times, the girl didn’t have her usual calm. Her mouth was set on a hard line and both her eyes looked like cold, hard sapphire and emerald stones. A look he’s only seen her wear for either of two reasons: Cersei and the Targaryens. 

She’s already done all she could about the second, he’s quite certain she’s come to him about her stupid elder sister this time. 

“I’ve come to talk about Cersei”

Tywin inwardly smirked, _Hah! I was right. A clever thing you may be but there are some things still predictable about you, daughter._

“What about Cersei?”

“What do you plan to do with her father?” 

Tywin frowned at the amount of concern she’s showing for his wayward daughter. She shouldn’t have to worry about the stupid, selfish girl, “Cersei is my concern, my girl, not yours. Stop wasting your time on her. You have more important things to do and think about”

“What will happen to her? Will she remain with the Leffords?” the girl persisted, the tilt of her chin an indication she’ll be stubborn and won’t drop the matter. 

“No. I have already sent instructions. She’ll go back to Casterly Rock and continue to learn under Genna”

A dark look passed momentarily on his daughter’s face before she leaned forward and locked her eyes with his, “Don’t send her back to the Rock father. It’s best to send her to Dorne, that way, she’ll be able learn early how to integrate with the Martells and get herself used to living in the Kingdom in the Sands.”

Tywin's lips curled up in amusement, his eyebrow raised, “Hn. And this has nothing to do with your dislike for her?”

He was aware that the relationship between the two has always been fraught with hostility. 

He blamed it on Cersei. The girl was a spiteful, jealous creature who could not accept that her younger sister was better than her. As the elder child, she should have taken the high road, acted with more maturity and worked harder to better herself instead of engaging in a rivalry she’ll never win and acting stupidly like trying to seduce her own brother to turn him to her side. 

“What does it matter whether I dislike her or not? She’s fourteen now. In a few years, she’ll marry Prince Oberyn. Better she start learning where she belongs now than later”

“Very well. Your words make sense” Tywin watched as her hard look slowly melted away, “I will send word to the Martells and make the necessary arrangements for Cersei to be brought here then she’ll sail for Dorne”

“Good. That’s good news father” she said, now with a pleased expression, “Any news from Duskendale?”

“Still no progress. Steffon has the town surrounded but the Darklyns refused to surrender and went as far as to threaten the king’s life”

“No rescue attempts or any plans whatsoever?”

“None as far as I am concerned”

“Strange that there are still no peace talks. Do you and Lord Baratheon have an understanding father?”

Tywin gave her a forbidding look and the girl’s lips curled up then nodded her head in understanding.

He’s known for a long time how of all his children, she’s the one most like him in terms of mental acuity. He also knew she could be ruthless whenever necessary. Her time as castellan of the Rock has proven that. The reports he received from Kevan and Genna about her seemingly foolish or childish mind games that hid traps for her targets to trip and fall into, her unflinching resolve in doling out punishments for crimes and her insistence in watching them get carried out, her determination to learn how to defend herself and surround herself with people capable of spilling blood—these all proved to him how she won’t hesitate to do what needs to be done when the situation called for it.

He approved of course, and was proud of her resolve. It is exactly what she will need when she becomes Queen of the Seven Kingdoms—the wisdom to know when to be a kind, benevolent queen and when to be a shrewd and harsh one.

The Iron Throne, the Red Keep, Kingslanding, politics—these are no flower gardens nor beautiful, pristine beaches where one can simply bask under the sun and think one’s position of strength and power will endure forever without lifting a finger. These are fighting arenas of hungry beasts wearing beautiful satin and silk clothing and treacherous smiles while waiting to pounce and devour foolish, weak and unsuspecting prey.

He is especially proud with how she comported herself in the most recent events—her assessment of the Duskendale situation, her dire predictions and recommendations that could have saved them from the mess they’re in had the king had an ounce of intelligence and listened to his council—not even he in her age could have thought or deduced things with such precision.

And the plot against Aerys—her conclusion of the need for a small rescue party, her deduction of Selmy’s role in it, how she utilized Lysarra’s mastery in poison, her knowledge of Pycelle being his man—he supported it wholeheartedly. It is not guaranteed of course. So many things could happen with so many people at Duskendale involved but if it succeeded…

House Lannister could never and would never be connected to any crime. Such a small, bizarre and seemingly unrelated event. He would have to admit even he was mighty impressed at how intricate her plan was. Had he himself not known and not played a part in it, he never would have linked it to an assassination plot.

***

Sansa 

Six moons—almost six moons without any training and she feared her learned fighting skills have gone to waste.

Not wanting to get rusty even more and lose her advantage if it comes to a dangerous situation, Sansa decided to share her secrets with Lysarra and the women from Bear Island.

All of them had sworn to keep her secret safe and expressed approval and encouragement that she continue her training.

Maege only grinned and patted her on the back, “Well, you wont hear any objections from us Bear Islanders and your secret is safe with us. We believe in strong women. If all girls were allowed to learn how to fight, there’d be less brutes and abusive men and less suffering for innocent children and women”

“We can even help you with your training my lady” Larra offered.

Maege preferred a spiked mace so she wasn’t much help and instead acted as her lookout along with her uncles and the red cloaks. Larra and Raya though—oh they gave Sansa more than enough challenge. 

Even with her previous training and knowledge of water dancing, the two women proved better what with them older and having more years of training than she. Tygett also joined them sometimes—her uncle and the two women often demonstrating techniques she could use if faced with more than one opponent. 

A fortnight of training an hour in the morning and another hour in the evening were enough to make her feel good and confident about her capabilities again. It was only necessary as she’s soon going to reunite with Cersei once more. 

As soon as she received word from a trusted servant in Golden Tooth of Lady Lefford’s untimely death, Sansa knew. She just knew Cersei has started making her stupid, crazy bitch moves.

She immediately sent word to her Aunt Genna and Uncle Kevan to assign two guards to Tyrion and to have his food tested all the time. Who knew if Cersei was able to convince someone stupid enough with a few gold and promises to do her dirty work for her?

She’s also pleased to learn from her father that the mad lioness will be sent to Dorne. There she can try her tricks surrounded by vipers who know their poison better than she.

Sansa is looking forward to meet the other girl and anticipating the opportunity to make her get it through her thick head she doesn’t hold any power.

***

Rickard 

Maege Mormont as a personal guard to Lady Sansa Lannister was truly a huge benefit. Not only did it ensure the North has someone near the future princess, it also meant having someone inside the Red Keep who could keep him abreast with firsthand information of the goings-on in the capital.

Where before he had to wait for news from Jon Arryn, now he gets it directly from a sister of one of his most loyal and trusted banner men.

They maintain anonymity to protect themselves both. The Lady Maege never mentions both their name nor titles in her letters and assured him her correspondences are written and the raven set free by her own hand with the Lady Sansa’s help.

The most important news for three moons now is the ongoing siege at Duskendale led by the Lord Hand Baratheon where the king remains a hostage of the rebellious House Darklyn.

There’s also stories of the Lady Lannister’s projects in the city and though Mormonts tend to be short and blunt with their words, there is no doubt in Lady Maege’s letters that the she-bear has taken a liking to the little lioness.

Jeor’s sister also frankly reported of her observations and dislike of the prince, finding him “pretentious…a bit of an exploiter…handsome and strong but with no real substance of his own…a Crown Prince and yet he doesn’t seem to be doing anything remarkable nor useful. He doesn’t join Small Council meetings and does not engage in many activities except to train in the yard with the Sword of the Morning and other knights, take rides in the kingswood and surrounding areas of the capital, play his harp and now has taken charge of the charity works the Lady Lannister has started on her own”

Her words certainly don’t paint an admirable portrait of the man many people believe will become a great king. The deafening cheer he witnessed during the Tourney at Highgarden seems to be nothing but raucous noise of bleating sheep now. How disappointing.

A knock on his solar door followed by Ned calling him caught his attention.

“Come in Ned” he said as he rolled the scroll from Lady Maege and dropped it on a box in a secret locked compartment in his desk.

Ned entered and then pushed the bar to lock the door of his solar, an uncomfortable look on his face.

“What is it?” Rickard asked, puzzled at his son’s actions.

Ned shifted on his feet before visibly steeling himself to continue talking, “It’s about Lyanna father… Please don’t tell her it was I who reported to you. She’ll get mad and might never forgive me. I just want her to be safe".

Rickard straightened up on his seat and with a grave voice addressed his heir, “What foolishness has your sister done this time Ned?”

“I know she doesn’t like the idea of marriage. Especially with Robert. She has spoken out loud her sentiments many times now. I’ve been observing her and I… I think she might be planning to run away father”

“What?!” Rickard hissed, disbelieving of the new heights of his daughter’s stupidity.

“It’s best you see what she’s been hiding in the crypt. It’s behind the statue of Artos the Implacable”

Rickard stood up at once, wanting to see for himself what Lyanna has been planning and intending to put a stop to it. 


	26. Rickard/Sansa

Rickard 

Rickard opened the old and heavy ironwood door and entered the crypts with the light of his torch guiding him. He went down the narrow and winding spiral stone steps and walked the cavernous vaults with ease and confidence. He’s entered the crypts many times as part of his childhood adventures, he knew exactly where to go.

Artos was the younger brother of his Grandfather Willam, the uncle of his father Edwyle. In death, the statues of the three men stood close to each other.

It was his father’s statue he saw first and Rickard took the time to look at his face. The first time he saw it, he remembered he thought the stonemason didn’t do a proper job. But now that years have gone by and his memory of him has slowly slipped away, he cannot even tell anymore which part of the statue didn’t resemble his father. He feared there will come a time when he’ll try to recall memories of Edwyle Stark, his mind would only conjure an image of the cold, lifeless statue and none of the man who lived.

He wondered what his father thought of him now. Rickard was an only child and thus was educated from an early age just how important his role was and how heavy his future duties would be.

 _Brandon’s foolishness and recklessness that led to his death—was it my fault?_ Rickard wondered, _Did I not impress_ _enough in his mind the weight of the mantle of Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North? A land of people always fighting with nature to survive?_

_And Lyanna’s wildness and willfulness—was my desire to let her grow a happy child wrong? Was it an unkindness on my part to have let her act so freely when she was young and now have her do her duty to House Stark and the North?_

He shook his head, _No, they should be grateful I gave them freedom while I could. They should be thankful I let them be children when many fathers put heavy burdens on their children’s young shoulders. They live lives better than most. They want for nothing. It’s time for them to grow up and do their part. Freedom? No one in this world is truly free. The living are chained to their duties and responsibilities. Freedom is only found in death._

_Brandon is gone, there's no use thinking what ifs and what could have beens with him. Ned is my heir now. Dutiful and strong. He'll make a better Lord of Winterfell. I only need to train him to be more politically savvy and wean him of his blind, unbending honor. He is a Stark not an Arryn. Blind honor won't help him live long, nor will it give him food and warmth in a long winter._

_And Benjen, he'll grow up like Ned. Not like Brandon and Lyanna. He will be a dutiful banner man to Ned. Together, they'll carry on my hopes for House Stark._

He continued walking until he saw the statue he entered the crypts for.

 _Artos the Implacable,_ Rickard huffed, _Intransigent. Relentless. Determined. How very fitting for Lyanna. Of course she’ll chose this statue as another form of defiance._

He moved his torch down and saw a dark bundle hidden behind the stone dire wolf. He reached for the bundle and carefully opened it to see its contents. Two breeches, two doublets, two jerkins, and three tunics which all seemed to be Bran’s size. A pair of gloves, a cloak and a baldric he knew once belonged to Bran too. And a heavy pouch of coins. At least five gold dragons. At least thirty silver stags. And stars and groats and pennies.

 _By the fucking gods,_ Rickard cursed silently, _you foolish girl, where did you get these monies? You’re this determined to defy me? You’re not going to learn are you? Very well Lyanna, do as you wish. You think you can outsmart me? You still have much to learn little girl. You refuse the easy way? Then let’s do it the hard way. Let’s see how far your stubbornness can carry you._

He closed the bundle and returned it to its hiding place.

***

Sansa 

Cersei and her retinue of Lannister red guards and a few Lefford men arrived last night in the capital. Sansa went out of her way to avoid the other girl the entire day but now must face her as they’re to have a family dinner with their father, Uncle Tygett and Uncle Gerion.

Nearly fourteen, Cersei looked older and even more beautiful in the candlelight with her childish features almost gone. Her pretty crimson gown, her height and glorious blonde hair only emphasized how her body is now slowly being replaced with that of a young woman’s.

In her own gown of pale gold, Sansa was certain she’d look a poor, scrawny and awkward creature if they stood side by side. And Cersei knew it too, based on the haughty smirk on her face.

“Sansa, how very good to see you again. Though I must say, the years have not been generous to you as they have been to me. What must the Prince Rhaegar think every time he sees you and is reminded he’s betrothed to a child closer to the cradle instead of a young woman close to him in age hm?”

“Cersei, big sister, it’s good to see you too. Do remember I am only ten. My time to bloom will come. I am glad to see that the years have been good to you. A pity though, it failed to include your brain and your mouth. Truly a waste” Sansa looked at the other girl, a look of mock sadness in her eyes.

Gerion burst out laughing, his hand slapping the table while Tygett only sniggered then winked at her.

“Enough you two. Sit down and behave and let us have a decent meal. It’s only the first day and already you are sniping and throwing insults at each other. Lannisters don’t act like fools” Tywin’s hard voice admonished them.

Sansa simply nodded, “Yes father, my apologies, though in my defense, I was only paying a debt”

She sat down and served herself some food from the table. Most of the conversation happened between Tywin and Cersei—about her time warding with the Leffords.

If Sansa wasn’t sure before, seeing the familiar triumphant look in Cersei’s eyes when she relayed the story of Lady Alysanne Lefford’s death only convinced her of the other girl’s crime.

“I have made the proper arrangements with House Martell. You will only stay for a sennight here at the capital then you will sail for Dorne. It is time you go and meet the family of your betrothed, learn their ways and adjust to living life there”

“No!” Cersei shouted, her eyes widened in shock then turned angry, “Father you can’t. Please don’t make me go.”

Sansa, Tygett and Gerion let go of their silverwares and stopped eating and watched the two in silence.

Tywin’s face turned stony, his eyes flashed a dangerous green and his voice lowered but became threatening, “Did you not listen girl? I have already made the arrangements. The Martells will be expecting you”

Cersei’s face twisted in rage, her voice shrill, “I refuse! You can’t make me! I’m not some chattel you can easily cast off to do your bidding!”

“You’re my daughter and you will do as I say! You will do your duty to our house. Don’t forget your place girl”

“I do know my place. I am the eldest and yet you consign me to a life of humiliation where I would have to bend and curtsy and call that little bitch _Your Grace_! If I am to do my duty, then I deserve better than to be a forgotten princess to a useless Dornish Prince in a poor kingdom with nothing but sand. Have the ugly little mongrel marry Oberyn Martell and betroth me to Prince Rhaegar and I shall gladly do my duty to House Lannister!”

Cersei stood up from her chair and slammed her hands on the table, as though trying to physically dominate the Great Lion. It didn’t work of course. Their father only calmly stood up to his full height and slapped her hard. Cersei looked up in shock clearly not anticipating the action, her hand going up to cradle her reddened cheek.

“Sit down Cersei” Tywin commanded.

Cersei looked ready to defy but Tywin spoke in an even colder voice, “I said sit down you insolent girl or I’ll make you myself and you will regret it”

Cersei immediately sat down, a look of hatred and fear warring on her face.

“Now, what made you have an inflated head? What made you think you deserve better than your sister hm? As far as I know, you have not shown anything worthy of note nor have you accomplished anything that has benefited House Lannister or made you deserving of a crown”

“You always favored that little bitch. Because she looks like your dead mother. You gave her all the chances to prove herself—made her castellan and let her stay at the Rock while you banished me to Golden Tooth with the stupid Leffords”

“And have you forgotten how that came about you stupid girl?” Tywin fairly growled like the lion of their sigil, “Do you no longer remember why I sent you away? You should be thanking me I let you live. Anyone else who tried to besmirch the Lannister name and I wouldn’t have hesitated to let them rot in one of the dungeons of the Rock! I would do it still if you continue to try my patience”

Tygett and Gerion looked confused then turned their heads to her, both their brows raised in question. Sansa only gave them a nod once then returned her attention to her father and Cersei.

Cersei’s eyes showed fear at the threat, her lips quivered as though she was holding back a cry or a snarl.

“This talk is finished. We will speak no more on this matter. You will go to Dorne. You will learn to live with the Martells and when you turn sixteen, you will wed Oberyn Martell”

“Nonono” Cersei shook her head in denial.

Sansa, feeling vengeful, decided to push the knife and twist it even further, “I am sure you will find Dorne agreeable sister. I hear the Water Gardens are lovely and the blood oranges and lemons to die for. Though try not to murder your hosts by poisoning them like you did the Lady Lefford. Martells are known to be very proficient in the poison arts. I’d be very sad indeed if I hear something tragic happened to you”

All the men in their family whipped their heads to her, faces all showing different degrees of shock while Cersei’s face paled.

“What do you mean by that Sansa?” their father’s voice was raised.

Sansa turned to Tywin, face set to look grave, “Exactly what you heard father. Cersei here poisoned the Lady Alysanne. I have a trusted spy in Golden Tooth. The Lady Lefford was healthy as an ox, my bird said. And suddenly she just died in her sleep.”

She then turned to Cersei, “What did you use sister? Three pinches or more of sweetsleep? That’s the easiest poison to acquire through a maester, isn’t it?”

“Is this true? Is this true you foolish child? Why?” Tywin demanded angrily.

Cersei didn’t answer but the look she gave Sansa was one of pure hatred.

“I imagine she murdered the Lady Alysanne hoping to be returned to the Rock. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s plotted to murder me too, hoping to take my place as Prince Rhaegar’s betrothed. She’s always hated me and saw me as a rival to defeat” Sansa answered calmly.

Gerion exclaimed in disbelief, “By the gods! I can’t believe this. Alysanne Lefford! You murdered Alysanne Lefford, a loyal vassal, for no reason other than because you wanted to?”

“Stupid. So so stupid. Tywin what if she was discovered? What if she does more foolish things? What of your precious legacy?” Tygett’s face was dark with anger too.

Tywin’s face twisted in such a rage that Sansa decided not to contribute more wood to the fire and shut her mouth.

“You will not be allowed to leave your rooms Cersei. You will have guards and maids to watch and stop you from acting the fool. In a sennight like I said, you’ll leave for Dorne. Do your best to behave there, you foolish girl. I will have spies watching you. If I hear even one word that you did to others what you’ve done to Alysanne Lefford, if you do anything that jeopardizes House Lannister, I’ll put you down like a rabid animal myself. If you want to live, you will heed this warning child”


	27. Ned/Sansa

Ned 

Mounted on top of their horses, they finally stopped at the top of the hill overlooking the vast land. They were high up enough that everything looked small from their vantage point. 

After some time simply taking in the view in silence, his father spoke for the first time since they left Winterfell, “Tell me Eddard, what do you see?”

Ned first looked at his father’s solemn face then looked around him and frowned, _Was that a real question? Or another tricky one? Father is always asking a lot of deep and difficult questions these days. Could this be another one of his lessons?_

With hesitation in his voice, he answered, “I see…mountains, moors, Winterfell from afar, the wolfswood”

His father’s face didn’t change, nor did his voice, “Look again and tell me what you see”

“I don’t see anything but land father”

“The North, Eddard. What you see isn’t just anything. Nor is it just land. What you see is the North. From the Wall all the way to the Neck. From the Shivering Sea to the east to the Sunset Sea to the west. A third of the lands of the entire Seven Kingdoms under our rule. Under Stark rule. And do you know how we came to rule the North?”

This Ned knows the answer to,“By conquest, father”

“Yes. Although there were a few houses who willingly bent their knees and accepted House Stark as their ruler, our ancestors fought the ancestors of most of the other houses and subdued them. Thousands upon thousands of men from other houses fallen at the feet of the ancient Kings of Winter. Many of their children and even helpless babes taken as hostages and killed without any remorse when their fathers decided to rise again in rebellion. Their women and young girls taken as wives or simply prizes for the victors to claim and ravage. Do you think it was honorable Eddard?”

“N-no father” Ned answered in a low voice, uncomfortable and not fully understanding why his father was bringing forward dishonorable acts of past Starks and speaking in such a grave manner.

“You are right. It wasn’t all honorable. And that is why our house words are not _As High As Honor_. Honor had no place in the path of conquest our ancestors took. Remember you are a Stark and not an Arryn, Eddard. _Winter is Coming_. These are our words. They serve not only to remind us of our beginnings in the wake of the Long Night but also as a grim portent of the reality and things to come—a reminder that life in the North and our rule as kings and now as wardens will always have challenges, will always have difficult and dark times ahead. This you must never forget and must teach your children, Eddard, and tell them to pass on to their descendants as well.”

Ned cleared his throat before speaking, “I…I understand father. I will do as you say”

His father turned to face him, his gray eyes sharp and it felt as though they were trying to read his soul, “Do you? Do you really understand Eddard? If so, tell me what you understand of the current situation here in the North.”

Ned opened and closed his mouth several times, not knowing where to start and how to start. It felt like he was standing in one of the black bogs of the Neck. He can’t seem to find solid ground.

After several moments of him keeping silent his Lord Father spoke once more, his hands moved to point directions, “Northeast of Winterfell lies the Dreadfort ruled by the Boltons. The Red Kings. Our enemies for thousands of years. Southwest is the Rills controlled by the Ryswells. Bethany Ryswell is now betrothed to Roose Bolton. Do you understand what that means Eddard?”

Ned felt dread start to form in the pit of his stomach, “That… Winterfell is flanked left and right?”

“Exactly. And the ambitious Rodrik Ryswell attempted to betroth his daughter Barbrey to the Dustin heir. He would have succeeded had I not personally talked the old Lord Dustin out of it. Do you understand what would’ve happened had Ryswell succeeded Eddard?”

A shiver of fear went down Ned’s spine when he realized the dire implications of what his father was telling him, “They would’ve gained control of the Barrowlands and Barrowton, father, and surrounded Winterfell even more”

“Hn. Indeed. They would’ve gotten Barrowton and its population of around eight to ten thousand. I'll not stand for the Ryswells gaining more influence. I’ll not have it! Willam Dustin will marry a Manderly and not that little Ryswell cunt. Keep your eye on them Eddard—the Ryswells and the Boltons. They are not to be trusted.”

Ned’s mind spun, _The Boltons to the East, the Ryswells to the West. Who else? Who else would I have to watch out for? The Manderlys? They are the richest house in the North after all, with White Harbor having almost fifty thousand in population and the strongest area in trade. The Karstarks? They’re kin. But that does not guarantee loyalty, does it? The Greystarks were kin too, weren’t they? Still they allied with the Boltons and rebelled against House Stark. Also, weren’t kin normally the ones first to fight for control when the ruling main house falls? That’s how it is in history. The Umbers? They’re also a strong house that can field a few thousand men and are more ferocious than the rest for their constant skirmishes with the wildlings._

He took a shuddering breath, finally realizing with horror the dangers surrounding House Stark. He never knew things were this difficult, never thought that a few betrothals could change the shape of the political landscape and possibly the outcome of a war should one happen. 

Political schemes and possibly secret and underhanded future plans of betrayals being discussed behind cups, behind closed doors and in the dark—here in the North where people pride themselves to be honorable. It is sickening but it simply proves the Lady Sansa Lannister’s words from moons ago right. The more he is learning about governing and politics, the more honor is proving to be nothing but an impossible goal in the face of harsh realities and conflicting interests.

Everything is staggering and overwhelming. Now the heir to Winterfell, when his father dies, he would have to face and endure the shitpile of ruling and politics his entire life. He vowed to make sure his children do not grow up blind nor unprepared like he is to face the reality of it all.

“Do you understand now why I tried to betroth Brandon to Lord Tywin’s daughter? Why I sent you to the Vale and had to betroth you to Tully’s girl and Lyanna to the Lord Hand’s son?”

Ned closed his eyes and thought more carefully before answering this time, “For political influence, more trade, gold and men”

“That’s right. It isn’t just about influence in the south like many believe Ned. With more Northern Houses like the Umbers, the Karstarks, the Hornwoods, the Tallharts, the Glovers and the Manderlys benefitting and earning more gold than before from the trade agreements I made with the West, the Riverlands and the Vale, we can at least be assured they will remain loyal to Winterfell. At the same time, those thinking of scheming against us will know we have stronger, wealthier allies to ask for help should it come to putting down rebellious houses. This is why you must help me make sure Lyanna does not make a mess of everything, Ned. I have already explained to her the importance of her betrothal but the stupid girl refuses to see reason, only thinking of her own selfish desires. You understand what will happen if she runs away don’t you? You know how her actions will impact the future of your own children, your daughters?”

_If Lyanna succeeds in her foolish plans, my innocent daughters and their daughters and all Stark women down the line will be forced to carry the dark mark of her actions and will have to endure undeserved ridicule and abuse and possibly face difficulties in finding good marriage prospects. Their husbands might even treat them with heavy, cruel hands to ensure they don’t follow their wild Aunt’s footsteps._

Ned clenched his hands on the reins of his horse and his face darkened at the thought. He loves Lyanna but he won’t tolerate her rash actions and certainly won’t let her destroy his children’s bright futures, their happiness and lives. He locked eyes with his father to show his understanding and resolve, “Yes father”

His father guided his horse closer to him and reached out his hand to cup Ned’s face, “Jon Arryn has taught you well in many things my son, but not that well when it comes to honor it seems. Honor is all well and good Ned, but just because you hold it precious does not mean others do too. I am telling you these things so your eyes may be opened and you can be prepared to face the reality of things here in the North. Northerners love to speak loud and boast about being honorable and think themselves better than southerners but that does not mean it’s the truth. The truth Eddard is this: People will work together when it suits them, stay loyal when it suits them, betray others when it suits them and kill others when it suits them. That has been the way of the world since time immemorial. When I die and you become Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, you will have many thousands of lives depending on you and your actions. Act with honor when suitable but don’t let notions of honor blind you. Don‘t let it be the cause of your downfall. Don’t let it be the cause of House Stark’s ruin. Don’t let it be the cause of Northern suffering”

***

Sansa

History is written by the victors and the Defiance of Duskendale will be remembered this way:

Duskendale was once a port of great importance on Blackwater Bay. With the growth and swelling of the port in the capital of Kingslanding, the Darklyns, who were Lords of Duskendale, started to experience hard times due to shrinking wealth and dwindling trade.

In an effort to stop the decline, Lord Denys Darklyn requested for an independent charter similar to that of Dorne’s. The proposal was rejected several times by both Lord Hand Tywin Lannister and his successor Lord Hand Steffon Baratheon.

In 277 AC, after several failed attempts at winning a charter, Lord Denys Darklyn decided to stop paying taxes to the Crown and invited the King or the Lord Hand to go to the Dun Fort to hear his petition and conduct negotiations.

Against his Small Council’s advices, the King, in his magnanimity, decided to accept the offer. Upon reaching the castle however, House Darklyn showed their true, evil intentions.

Some would say the events have been planned by Lord Denys Darklyn but many believed he had been driven by the influence of his foreign wife, the Lady Serala of Myr. Whichever the truth, many crimes were committed. Guest Rights have been violated. Symon Hollard slew Ser Gwayne Gaunt of the kingsguard while ten more knights from the Royal Armies were murdered by Darklyn men-at-arms. Lord Commander Gerold Hightower and the King Aerys were made hostages with the king having been made to suffer indignities such as being struck and shoved roughly, having been stripped of his royal raiment and even had his beard pulled by a squire named Robin Hollard.

The Lord Hand Steffon Baratheon besieged Duskendale for six moons until finally, Ser Jonothor Darry and Ser Lewyn Martell of the kingsguard performed a dangerous rescue mission. The two kingsguards were able to get their King and Lord Commander from their prison cells and Lord Commander Hightower avenged Ser Gwayne by killing Symon Hollard. They were able to procure two horses for their escape but before reaching the castle gates, the Darklyns rained arrows upon them. Ser Jonothor Darry fell and died with an arrow through his neck leaving King Aerys alone atop their horse with his back unprotected, resulting to two arrows being lodged to his spine, thereafter leaving the king crippled.

With no hostage left, Lord Darklyn surrendered and begged for mercy but the barely conscious and delirious King Aerys ordered for the deaths of all Darklyns and all their distant kinsmen living in Duskendale and the House Hollard was attainted and executed with no one spared.

Lord Denys was tied to a post and was shot full of arrows while his wife the Lady Serala had her tongue and womanly parts torn out, after which she was burned alive.

The lands and incomes of Duskendale were granted to House Rykker while the lands of House Hollard had been taken away, their villages burned, their fields salted and their castle torn down.

In the aftermath, both Lord Commander Gerold Hightower and Ser Lewyn Martell were stripped of their position as kingsguards and sent to the Wall for grossly failing their king. 


	28. Jaime/Sansa/Cersei/Lyanna

Jaime 

Four years. That’s how long he’s stayed with the Tullys and squired for the Blackfish. Not all of the days were happy ones, he’ll admit, but overall he liked and enjoyed the experience.

Lord Hoster was very intimidating at first, like his father. But time has made the man more genial and though they rarely interacted because of his busy schedule as Lord of the Riverlands, Jaime could now act and communicate easily with him.

Cat has become very important to him—beautiful and fair and with such lovely red hair and sweet smile and eyes so blue he’s starting to dream of with shame at night. She has become a close friend, a confidant and to his surprise, someone he can now easily imagine having a family and a future with at the Rock.

Lysa is a little sister. Soft and timid, sometimes still childish and prone to fits of giggles, totally different from his own little sister but someone he’s become wryly fond of.

Edmure is like a little brother. A stubborn little shit and hotheaded but kindhearted. The boy loved shadowing him and Ser Brynden and with Jaime's influence, together they found ways to perform tricks and make fun of annoying and proud little lordlings who visited Riverrun. They’re a match.

And the Blackfish. The man truly is someone worthy of admiration. Though blunt and stubborn and doesn’t care what others think, Ser Brynden is kind with the patience to listen. Jaime found it easier to talk to him of his problems and doubts than his own father.

The dust of the Defiance of Duskendale has settled and only three of seven kingsguards were left. Two died as heroes and two were judged incompetent and were almost executed but instead got banished to the cold edge of the Seven Kingdoms thanks to the Small Council’s interference and pleading with the Cripple King.

 _I_ _t was only logical not to kill them,_ Sansa said. _The two—a Hightower and a Martell Prince—were from great and influential families after all, with Dorne capable of raising thousands of men and Oldtown being the second largest city_.

Jaime wondered how their stories would be written down the Book of the Brothers. Then he thought, with the Cripple King, it won’t be written as a good story at all.

And now the King has seen fit to summon the famous Blackfish, a war veteran and a hero during the War of Ninepenny Kings, to serve as his kingsguard.

Jaime was proud his mentor was being recognized for his strength and valor but he could not stop feeling disappointed that he now has to give up being his squire without being knighted yet.

 _You will cease being a squire to the Blackfish,_ his Lord Father commanded. _His place will now be at the King’s side and yours Casterly Rock. You will continue squiring and learn how to rule the West under your Uncle Kevan and Aunt Genna._

 _Steer clear of Kingslanding, the Red Keep, the Royal family and all the kingsguards, brother_ , his little sister said, _Obey father. Learn how to rule the West and how to command its armies. I beg you, do this for me brother, please._ _You promised you would protect me._

Jaime didn't fully understand but it sounded ominous and if his father and little sister agreed it’s dangerous for him to go and squire for the Blackfish in Kingslanding, then it truly must be dangerous.

“Well, lad, the King summons me to serve and I must obey. I would gladly knight you now Jaime, you’re worthy of it and good enough to be one you know. I honestly have not seen anyone your age so talented”

Jaime grinned halfheartedly at the tall knight he’s now come to consider family, “The right time will come for me. When it does, I hope you’d still be willing to knight me”

The Blackfish chuckled and reached out to ruffle Jaime’s hair, “Of course! Why ever would I refuse? It’ll be my honor as well. To be the one to knight the future Lord Lannister and my favorite niece’s husband at that. So what will you be doing when you return to the Rock?”

Jaime's grin turned wry, “Father commanded I learn under Uncle Kevan and Aunt Genna. It’s not going to be fun but, well, I swore to help Sansa and she said I need to learn how to rule the West well if I want to be of any help to her in the future. I have to keep my promise. She said I also need to learn to be good at delegating tasks I don’t personally like doing myself.”

Brynden chuckled once more, “Well you seem to have your path set before you. And your sister is right lad. The Westerlands has the third largest city. Many people—thousands of them will be depending on you in the future. Cat I’m sure would help but as the future lord and warden, you must learn to do your duty and do it well.”

Jaime nodded then turned solemn, “You’ll be at the capital soon enough”

“Aye. Do you have anything you want me to give your father or sister? Letters or trinkets perhaps?”

“Yes Ser. I’ve got something for my little sister but I want to talk about something important…” Jaime trailed off awkwardly and clenched and unclenched his hand on the hilt of his sword.

Brynden clearly saw his struggle and frowned, “What is it? We’ve known each other for a while now and will soon become family, you can tell me what’s bothering you Jaime.”

Jaime steeled himself before talking in a low voice, “I heard stories about the King. I also know what happens when someone becomes a kingsguard. You would have to obey all the King‘s commands, no matter if they’re unjust or dishonorable. Kingsguard vows do not have room for honor, only duty and loyalty.”

Ser Brynden's mouth tightened into a line before nodding, his bushy eyebrows furrowed and his laughing blue eyes were cold like ice.

“I just… It’s my sister Ser. She fears the King I think. And she doesn’t trust the kingsguards. But I trust you and…” Jaime trailed off again not knowing how to proceed without sounding too demanding.

The Blackfish sighed deeply then spoke with his hoarse and smoky voice low, “Say no more lad. I understand perfectly well your fears and what you’re trying to say. I will not promise you anything only to turn out an oath breaker in the end Jaime. But you know the words of House Tully. Family. Duty. Honor. Soon you will marry Cat and we will be family. We Tullys always watch out for family. I will do my best to protect your sister just as you’ve watched over and protected the girls and Edmure these past years”

Jaime felt his tense muscles relax in relief and he bowed in gratitude, “Thank you Ser, truly”

***

Sansa

Sansa wondered if perhaps she’d miscalculated and overreached.

Perhaps she shouldn’t have stopped Barristan Selmy from saving the King. Perhaps she shouldn’t have interfered and just let things be. Because now so many things have changed and she feels neither a wolf nor a lioness hunting prey but a floppy fish in the middle of a raging river Trident.

Aerys is alive. Crippled yes, but mad. The rumored bloodbath in the hands of the Darklyns followed by the moons of being kept almost starved and abused as a hostage, the close breath of death he experienced atop that horse with the arrows lodged at his spine and now the incurable injury he would have to endure and would constantly remind him of that terrible chapter of his life—all these drove him mayhap even madder this time.

He vacillates between terrible rage and abject fear followed by suspicions and the desire to get rid of anything he thinks is a threat to him and his crown. 

The only relief all of them have is that the Mad Cripple spent half his time barricaded in his rooms in Maegor’s Holdfast with his most trusted kingsguards.

Oh but when the king does leave the safety of his rooms, the rest of them hold their breath and stay alert to steer clear of his path.

After gaining enough strength, he’d tried to have Gerold Hightower and Lewyn Martell executed. It’s an extremely foolish move and a gross sign of ingratitude to the two men who no doubt tried their best to save him and would see the Martells and the Hightowers insulted but there was no reasoning with a madman. That the Small Council was able to convince him to banish them to the Wall instead was a great miracle indeed.

How this would impact future events exactly, there’s no way to determine yet. On one hand it drives a wedge between the Crown and Dorne and Oldtown. Aerys could potentially lose the support of the two families. She could also see it benefitting the Watch. Gerold Hightower is too old but with a Martell Prince with many years still on him serving in the Watch, Dorne may be more sympathetic and inclined to send help North in the future. On the other, if not addressed properly, both houses might pose future problems.

The loss of four kingsguards also changed things with the results mixed. Willem Darry, a man she knows remained loyal even when House Targaryen fell, replaced his fallen brother Jonothor Darry. Monford Velaryon, brother of Lord Lucerys Velaryon who was known to be Aerys' ardent supporter, was also given a white cloak. Lomas Estermont was also raised to the kingsguard position. And lastly, Brynden Tully was summoned to serve as kingsguard too—a move she learned later on was supported by Barristan Selmy and Oswell Whent.

Another result of the Duskendale fiasco was the souring of the relationship between the King and the Lord Hand.

For several moons now, the King has been throwing scathing insults to the Lord Hand for being slow in resolving the crisis. There were rumors flying that Aerys thought Tywin Lannister would’ve handled the hostage situation more efficiently than Lord Steffon.

When the Lord Hand offered to resign from his position and return it to Tywin, the King refused then turned around blaming Tywin and his entire Small Council for being incompetent in handling the Darklyn’s demands for a separate charter.

Even Rhaegar and Queen Rhaella were blamed and in his paranoia, he thought them to have conspired against him. The King has the babe Viserys close to him and guarded closely at all times while spurning Rhaegar’s presence, leaving many to gossip that Aerys might just make the innocent babe his heir. The poor Queen was confined like a prisoner to a set of rooms in the Maidenvault. It was infuriating but at least the woman was kept separate and safe from her husband’s abuse.

The lords and ladies at court, the soldiers and the servants—none were safe from the king’s moods. In the five moons since the end of the Defiance, more than a dozen tongues were ripped out using hot pincers for talking wrong or smiling or laughing at the King’s crippled state. Three minor lords were also executed after having been heard calling him names.

It’s an unending game of finger-pointing and blaming, with everyone at fault and thinking himself the innocent, wronged victim.

And now the Spider is in the city, no doubt ready to spin tales of half-truths and lies and add to the chaos.

***

Cersei 

Cersei shrieked and threw a pillow at the closed door the moment the pathetic princess and her lady’s maids left her rooms, not caring of the eyes of the guards and servants her father sent with her.

She despised everything about Dorne. The sun glaring down from the blue sky day after day after day. The daily heat she was certain was coming from the seven hells. The dryness and the sand that gets everywhere—her legs, her armpits, even her smallclothes.

She hated its people with their dark, scrutinizing eyes and their nauseating smells. The men were barbarians and the women lewd harlots. The foods were disgusting, they burn her tongue and throat.

She hated the Martells. She doesn’t understand what her father sees in them. The rest of Westeros don’t even like or trust them. They are nothing but poor snakes slithering in the sands ambitious and shameless enough to still call themselves Princes and Princesses when they’re worth less than most of the other great houses. Cersei would bet all her gold and emerald jewelries that all their wealth and possessions don’t even come close to a tenth of her family’s.

She doesn’t like Doran and his judging dark eyes with his long silences and careful words. He makes her nervous and feeling like a caged animal.

Oberyn, her betrothed, is a brute. A monstrous fellow she heard from gossips with her maids was half-mad at times. Though tall and slender and athletic, he has nothing at all on the beauty and perfection that was Prince Rhaegar Targaryen. Not even close to the beauty she’s sure Jaime is now. No, he’s not the right one for her. He’d fit more with the little mongrel. The two of them should be the ones betrothed then married and have ugly little beasts for children.

And Elia Martell! The nerve of that twat pitying her and acting as if she’s better. She does not even deserve to be called Princess, nor does she deserve a drop of Cersei’s respect. It’s demeaning and absolutely infuriating she has to curtsy and be all proper in front of the plain and puny-looking woman. She should be sent to the Silent Sisters or made a septa, she’d have more uses then.

Her situation was worse than she thought. Worse than she ever imagined all these years. The bitch has all the men in their family wrapped around her dirty little fingers. She dared to have spies watching Cersei! And now she’s revealed the murder of the insignificant Alysanne Lefford and put her under their father’s scrutiny and surrounded with people she doesn’t like and who knows how many more spies.

Powerless, that is what she is. That is how she feels. She never thought she’d be reduced to something like this. That she'd be made to feel so low. She’s a lioness of the Rock. The eldest child. The first daughter. In a kinder world where women were treated equal to men and not as livestock to be sold or bartered for more power, more influence, more men and more gold, she’d be her father’s heir. The Rock would be hers. And she’d be able to do as she pleased. But here she is. In a strange land. Among strange people. Powerless.

But it won’t be forever. She’ll endure and be patient. She’ll root out all the spies and eliminate or turn them into her creatures. Faraway here in Dorne, her father and the little bitch won’t be able to know every little thing she does. She’ll play the good little pawn for now. But even if it takes her all her life, she’ll eventually get all she deserves but was denied. Everything and more.

***

Lyanna 

This is her chance. The one she’s been waiting for.   
There’s very little time left. Two years at the very least. But she knows the men in her family are all stubborn. They’ll never let her go. She’s not about to wait and find out what’s in store for the next two years. She’s not that stupid.

She can feel the noose slowly tightening around her throat. She sees it in everyone’s careful, watchful eyes and hears it in the long, tiring and repetitive sermons of duty and honor and Northern good. From father, Ned, the damned Septa, the letters she got from Robert Baratheon and the Lord Hand, Winterfell’s guards. Even little Ben is watching her now too.

Others take them all! Why can’t it be someone else? There are other stupid highborn girls in the North who’d jump at the chance to marry a southern lordling, why must it be her who has to play the sacrifice?

A trip to White Harbor with father and Ned. A place with ships that no doubt comes and goes to different parts of the world. A city with thousands of people and lots of places to hide in. It can’t get better than this. 

Her mind is already made up. Her resolve strong. She’s prepared. Clothes and gold and silver, she has them.

She has to grab this opportunity. She has to take charge of her life and her future. Otherwise she’ll be caged and regret it forever. 


	29. Lyanna/Sansa/Rickard

Lyanna 

She woke up with a cold chill and numb pain on her wrists, arms and back and panicked when she realized her situation.

She was sitting on what felt like a wooden floor but she could feel slight swaying movements. Her eyes were covered and her mouth was gagged. Her hands were twisted at her back and bound tight to a post. Her feet too were tied securely together, with the ropes digging in her skin. She can’t even bend her knees and reach for the small knife hidden in her boots. And she was so very hungry and thirsty.

She doesn’t know where she is nor does she know why she’s in her current situation. Frightened, she tried to move her hands to see if she could get free but stopped when every movement just made the ropes dig further into her skin.

They arrived at White Harbor five days ago. The first two days, she and Ned asked their father for permission to tour the city. Ned had been content to just explore but she made sure to take note of the alleys and some of the inns near the harbor. She also asked about the ships and where some of them were destined to go. There were many but she took note specifically of those going to Braavos.

Braavos was the best starting place. It’s a free city so she wouldn’t have to worry about slave traders unlike other places in Essos. And she’s sure she won’t have difficulties with speaking to anyone. With its proximity to the Seven Kingdoms, it’s bound to have many people speaking the Common Tongue.

On the third day, she made her plans and readied her things. On the fourth day, when the sun went down, she escaped with her precious belongings and went to a small, nondescript inn at the harbor. With the hood of her cloak up and hiding most of her face, she was sure none recognized her when she paid for a room. None had followed her either when she got inside her room, she made sure of that.

_What happened? Why am I in this situation? Who dared to do this to me?_

Lyanna immediately stopped moving and pretended to be asleep when she heard people talking from a distance followed by footsteps. Two…no, three people.

“Jikagon gaomagon urnēbagon”1 a heavily accented male voice spoke.

Lyanna stiffened upon hearing the foreign tongue. What? What was that? What did he say?

The other person, a man she realized, sighed then answered, "Sȳz. Ȳdra daor gaomagon mirros doru-borto”2

She heard one of the three walking away. The two left behind, she heard continued walking until they stopped almost in front of her.

“A stupid girl is pretending she’s asleep. But I know she’s awake” an amused, another accented female voice said.

Lyanna continued with her pretense. Not wanting to give up so easily. The woman laughed and Lyanna heard light footsteps move away. Next she heard liquid being poured then the person returned. And suddenly she felt cold liquid splash on her face and chest. She shrieked through her gag in shock. She thrashed against her bindings futilely and tried to shout through the gag, “Mhm mm mho. Mhm mm mho”

“Nādīnagon zirȳla relgos ruaragon”3 the man spoke once more in the foreign tongue.

“You want to hear the stupid girl speak?” the woman asked.

“Kessa. Ivestragī zirȳla ȳdragon” 4

Lyanna felt one of them get closer to her then a hand moved to her face. She desperately tried to turn away, not knowing what the person would do to her in such a vulnerable position. But another hand took hold of her braided hair in a harsh grip, “If you don’t want to get hurt and if you want to be able to talk stupid girl, you’ll have to be a good little pet”

The woman’s cruel and mocking voice stopped her and within moments she felt her gag being removed.

As soon as it was gone she started asking questions.  
“Who are you people? Why are you doing this? What do you want from me? Let me go this instant! Let me go!”

“So demanding. Should I gag you once more little wildling? Is that how you want to be treated? Like an animal?” the woman asked, her hand cruelly tugging at Lyanna’s hair.

Lyanna clamped her mouth shut then spoke through gritted teeth in anger, “I don’t know you. I haven’t done you anything wrong. What do you think you’re doing?”

The woman laughed then Lyanna felt a cold object laid flat on her cheek. Is that... A knife?!

“Of course you don’t know us. As for what we are doing, well, you’re a rich little runaway noble, aren’t you girly? We got all your coins. But we want more. How much do you think your father will pay us for your life?”

_Kidnappers for ransom! But how?! How did they—_

“Oh don’t be surprised girl. We do this for a living. It’s easy to see if you know what you’re looking for”

“I’m no runaway noble!” Lyanna shouted, desperate to salvage the situation. She can’t let these people know who she is. If they do, they’ll ask her father for gold and once they’re paid, they’ll return her home and she’ll never be free. “I’m no noble. I’m an orphan. The coins you got from me, I stole them. So you see, no one will ransom me. Just let me go”

“Liar. Your fine skin, your looks, your proud posture, your speech. You’re a lying little noble girl”

Lyanna was quick to provide the story she invented many times in her head, “My mother worked as a lady’s maid in the Dreadfort and I grew up in the servant's quarters inside the castle. That’s why I know a little. She taught me to be proper. But she’s dead and there’s no place for me in that cruel place so I stole coin anywhere I could and go someplace nicer. Please. I’m just trying to find a better life, I’m worth nothing to you”

“Hmm… well, if none will pay ransom, we’ll have to find another way to earn coin out of you”

The woman’s accented voice was thick and sounded wrong. Lyanna felt afraid then. There’s only a few ways how money could be earned from a girl or woman who has nothing and most of them were vile. With a shaky voice she asked, “What…what do you mean by that? What are you planning?”

The woman ignored her question and the knife on her cheek was removed. Then she heard her stand up and talk to the man, “Se riña vestras zirȳla muñar issi morghe. Daorys kessa addemmagon syt zirȳla.”5

“Hmm…Konir sagon sȳz. Pār īlon'll lioragon zirȳla isse Lys. Īlon'll jiōragon āeksion iēdrosa“6

Lyanna stiffened when she heard a familiar word. Did she hear it right? Did they mention Lys? She knows what Lys is famous for. 

She jerked against her binding violently once more, “Where are you taking me? I told you to let me go”

The woman laughed lowly again, “Set you free? After all the trouble we went through? No no no little girl. Are you stupid? That’s not how it works. We will get gold from you one way or another. Don’t worry. You said you wanted a better life? We’ll make sure to sell you to a more expensive pleasure house in Lys. Who knows, you might get a rich patron who’ll make you their paramour and you'll get to live the rest of your life in an opulent villa somewhere”

She panicked at the mention of being sold to a whorehouse, “You can’t! You can’t! I’m no whore! Please! Let me go! Someone help me! Help!! Ned! Ned! Father!” she begged, shouting loud as she could.

The woman laughed while the man chuckled, “Father? Hah! That was easy. I was right. You’re a filthy little liar”

Realizing her mistake, Lyanna stopped shouting and clamped her mouth shut.

“We’re in a ship in the middle of the sea, little girl, none shall hear your cries for help. If you want to go home, you’ll have to cooperate with us. If not, then it's off to whoredom with you”

“No! Never! I won’t let you!”

“Alright. If you want to be difficult then fine. I’m sure a few days with no food and water will help you make a smarter decision. Or perhaps you’d like a taste of what’s in store if you force our hand to sell you in Lys, hmmm?”

“Henujagon zirȳla sagon syt sir” the man spoke, “Ziry'll lurugon aderī. Nyke gīmigon ziry. Ruaragon zirȳla relgos arlī”7

The woman approached her once more and returned the gag on her mouth. Lyanna tried to bite her hand but reeled back when she got slapped. Then they left, ignoring her muffled shouts and pleas and thrashing movements on the floor.

***

Sansa

 _I want you to serve the realm!_ Those were the words Varys shouted to Ned Stark while her father was imprisoned in the black cells.

 _I did what I did for the good of the realm_. That’s what he spoke to Littlefinger.

In her dreams.

Hubris or lies. Or complete utter horseshit.

How did his whispers to the ears of the Mad King Aerys serve the realm? How did his keeping the secret of Cersei’s bastards serve the realm? Did he seriously consider standing by and doing nothing while Robert Baratheon indulged all his vices and beggared the Seven Kingdoms and Cersei and House Lannister became more influential helpful in anyway? Did he really think doing nothing while Littlefinger played his games and the fault lines between houses and kingdoms deepened a wise course of action? Did he really believe prolonging an inevitable war a kindness?

Tywin’s commanding voice broke through her musings.  
“We must tighten security. I want more men in the rotation. I want every hallway and every door with at least two guards. Make sure to also do a sweep in every room before a family of mine enters. Have all gifts opened in the barracks. Discard if it’s food or anything perishable. If fabric, have it checked then sent to the orphanage. If jewelry, have them tested for poison.”

“And the walls, the rooftops and the chimneys too. Make sure to have someone check those areas once every two to four hours” Sansa immediately added.

The three household head guards and her father’s mute captain of the guards turned to look at her and she hid a grimace.

Younger though he was, Ilyn Payne didn’t look that much different. He was still a grim man, thin and with a beardless, pockmarked face. He also still has the same frightening deep set of pale, colorless eyes and hollow cheeks that made him look like a ghoul from a child’s nightmare. How a calm and gentle person like Podrick is related to him is still a mystery.

If she had a choice, she’d rather not be in the same room as he but in this life, the man was a loyal Lannister soldier who performed his duties well. So loyal he even lost his tongue for it.

“Sers, command your guards to watch out for children also. We cannot let spying little rats invade the privacy of our rooms. If your men see one, make sure to catch them. Don’t mistreat them in anyway. Simply subdue and put them in a cell then report to us”

She turned her attention to her father who was looking at her with sharp pale green-gold eyes then nodded. 

“Yes. Do as my daughter said. Have two guards climb the roofs at night. They don’t have to wear heavy armor, chainmail would do. What is necessary is they guard all entrances big or small”

The three guards and the tongueless knight perfunctorily nodded their heads at Tywin in understanding.

***

 _Is it possible to trap a spider in its own web?_ Sansa wondered then shook her head. She’s never seen such a thing before so perhaps not. _Mayhap the insect has some special intelligence or skill to navigate its home so easily. But what if another spider put another layer? Will it survive or will it fall victim like all other small insects that get trapped in its web?_

Then she wondered why Tywin never got rid of him before. _Did the Spider work for him too? No no. He's too much of a liability._

“You know about the eunuch and his methods. How?” Tywin asked in a flat voice.

“Here and there. Mostly from Lysarra”

“He’s not to be trifled with. I command you, stay out of his way”

Sansa nodded her head in agreement,“Yes father”

“All these are nothing but precautionary measures to prevent the spider from sniffing near us. They don’t actually resolve the problem. Surely, Tywin, you can do better?” Tygett complained surly.

Tywin threw her uncle a glare, “Aerys is paranoid, now more than ever. We must not act with haste or it’ll be off with all our heads.”

“There’s an idea I’d like to discuss with you father. I’d like to hear your opinion and see if we could come to an agreement”

“What idea?” Tywin raised a brow in question.

“How to crush a spider in its web”

Tywin scowled fiercely at her, “Did you not listen to me girl? This is not the time to be making foolish attempts to assassinate the eunuch”

“No, no we're not going to kill him father" Sansa hurriedly placated the irritated lion, "We’ll make the king kill him”

***

Rickard

Unlike his amiable, loud self and emerging reputation for being a prodigious eater, Wyman Manderly looked at him with calculating eyes and ignored the vast array of food on the table in front of them, “My lord, this is quite… hmm… unconventional, I must say”

Rickard looked the new Lord of White Harbor in the eye, gray eyes solemn, “Do you love your children Wyman?”

“Of course my lord. Why wouldn’t I? They’re mine. My joy, my pride and the future of my house”

“I love my children too Wyman. But I am not just a father. I am also Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. And that means looking out not just for mine own children but thousands more other children under my rule. Lyanna… that child—deny her anything and it will become her heart’s greatest desire. And she’ll throw away sense simply to attain it and prove to everyone that she’s capable of getting what she wants. And that is why this must be done. I would rather she face the consequences of her actions and learn harsh lessons now than see her die or watch thousands more innocents die because of her foolishness.”

Wyman nodded his head once then laughed amused and incredulous at the same time, “It’s been a full day. No food and no water and still she hasn’t given up. She's got quite the spirit in her”

“It’s to be expected. That girl is as wild as the dire wolf on our sigil but stubborn as a mule. I’ll give her three days”

“And if she doesn’t my lord?”

“Then we’ll proceed with plan number two”

"Does young lord Ned know?" 

"Of course. Ned has been my spy these past moons. He also took note of the places Lyanna was most interested in when they visited the docks"

Wyman chuckled, “You really planned this all out. I never would have thought you capable of such my lord”

“For my children and for the North, I would do anything Wyman. Even burn alive if needs be”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation:  
> 1\. Go keep watch  
> 2\. Fine. Don’t do anything stupid.  
> 3\. Remove her mouth cover.  
> 4\. Yes. Let her speak.  
> 5\. The girl says her parents are dead. No one will pay for her.  
> 6\. That’s fine. Then we’ll sell her in Lys. We’ll get gold still.  
> 7\. Leave her be for now. She’ll fold soon. I know it.


	30. Tywin/Lyanna/Rickard

Tywin 

Tywin got up from his seat and went to a side table to pour himself some watered wine while considering his daughter’s words.

A plot to manipulate the king to kill his own spymaster. That sounded interesting. The eunuch may have his uses and could be a future asset but what is important is the present and right now, while he spins his web and whispers his tales to the mad cripple’s ears, he is a danger to House Lannister. If the plan succeeds, his loss will not be that significant.

But Tywin had to make sure the plan was good first, “Explain this scheme you’re thinking of.”

Intense blue and green eyes looked at him, “You know that there are rumors saying Varys was born in Lys or Myr”

“Yes. What of it?”

“The Lady Serala was from Myr, was she not?”

Tywin frowned while Tygett and Gerion both leaned forward with furrowed brows at the mention of the infamous former lady of House Darklyn, “What does that woman have to do with anything?”

“I mean to accuse Varys of conspiring to dethrone House Targaryen. At this point, Aerys paranoia should be enough to push him to have the spider captured and executed.”

“And how will this happen?”

“Barristan Selmy will play an important part. He’s the best fit for what I have in mind”

“You seem to have something against Barristan the Bold, niece. Whatever did he do to you?” Gerion grinned and winked at her roguishly.

The girl only shook her head saying, “Nothing. He did nothing”

Tywin wanted to snort at the glib response. His daughter has some sort of personal vendetta against the kingsguards. Particularly the more senior ones. He’s certain it all boils down to what happened to Joanna. He won’t be surprised if she plotted more against them. Not that he particularly cared.

“Explain in full what this plan would actually entail” Tywin commanded.

The girl went on to explain a story of a conspiracy that, had Tywin not known was merely a pretense and a product of her mind, would make him think a very real one given Varys' reputation.

“Seven hells, how long have you thought of this story niece?” Tygett asked with amazement in his green eyes.

Tywin could not fault him for being impressed. The Duskendale Defiance, bastards and sorcery and Blackfyre rebellions—it was indeed a believable story straight out of the Targaryens' unpleasant history complete with conveniently coinciding events that would support its believability.

His daughter only waved her hand dismissively, ”A week or two now uncle. So, what do you think?”

Tywin smirked faintly. If Aerys wasn’t mad already, this story would be sure to drive him crazy, “It sounds credible enough. Aerys would no doubt believe it and act rashly like the fool he is.”

“That he’ll do, no doubt. Now I understand why it has to be Selmy” Tygett grinned savagely.

“The Feast Day of Our Father Above is in two moons, that sounds like the perfect time to enact this plan” Gerion suggested.

Sansa nodded, “I agree. With so many people coming and going in the capital, it’s perfect for rumors to get traction swiftly. Also, there will be more merchants and traders than usual so it’s going to be a lot more convenient and believable to think the whistle-blower could be among them”

Tywin finally sat down again and looked his daughter in the eye, ascertaining her resolve to go through with such a plot, “You are aware this isn’t the same as the one you did with Selmy before, that this could potentially drag other people to their deaths, aren’t you? Especially those foolish enough to engage in the gossips”

Sansa’s jaw clenched then relaxed, her eyes hard, “Yes I am aware father. But what other choices do we have? Varys is far too dangerous to be left spinning his webs. He needs to be taken care of as early as possible. If we simply stand by and do nothing, Varys will grow more powerful and the damage he’d be capable of would be bigger, the lives he could destroy with his words alone would be far greater number. What is a dozen to thousands?”

***

Lyanna 

She didn’t think it possible to shed tears still after not having enough water to drink for a long while.

It was terrible…so so so terrible. The most terrible thing she has ever experienced.

It must have been two or three days already—she’s not sure because they kept her eyes covered. What was certain was that her situation hasn’t changed.

She was still a captive.

She thought she could make it but her stomach—she never knew hunger like she felt now. She always had something to eat back home in Winterfell. If ever she felt famished, all she had to do was go to the kitchens and ask the cook or the bakers and they’d feed her with smiles. But now…

They gave her a glass of water at least but no food—they won’t unless she told them who she was.

The water wasn’t enough. Her mouth feels dry and she’s feeling light headed. There’s also a gnawing, painful feeling in her stomach, in the upper left side of her abdomen. It felt like her intestines were churning and her brain isn’t helping at all. It does nothing but provide her with thoughts of food she could be eating right now. She’s very tired. She hasn’t slept well. She wants to go home. Back to Winterfell. She shouldn’t have ran away.

She heard the door open and ceased crying. Footsteps approached her and once more her gag was removed.

The cruel bitch of a woman from before spoke, “Have you come to your senses little girl? Ready to tell us now who your noble father is so we can get our gold?”

If she goes home, she’s certain her father will never let her be free. She’s going to be sold like cattle for alliances and—

“Still refusing to speak eh? Very well, my friend Tregar here may be able to convince you”

_What?_

Lyanna heard footsteps approach her and suddenly—  
“What are you doing?! Stop! Stop!” She tried to twist away from the hands opening her shirt to no avail.

“Stop please!!!” she pleaded.

“We’ve tired of your shit little girl. If you want him to stop, you’ll have to give us what we want. A name. Your father’s name”

“Stark! I am Lyanna Stark of Winterfell. Daughter of Lord Rickard Stark. Please stop! Stop this!” Lyanna cried out, knowing her name was the only thing that could save her now.

The hands immediately stopped and the woman chuckled, “Now, was that so hard? A Stark eh? What is the daughter of the Warden of the North doing so faraway from home?”

Lyanna ignored her and finally gave up pretending and broke into sobs from fear, desperation, hunger, thirst and exhaustion. She wants it all to end. She just wants to go back home.

***

Rickard 

Rickard looked at the two in front of him, a man named Torrhen who was also a knight and his sister, a woman named Wilma.

Both of them were Wyman’s fourth cousins and heavily involved with trade in Essos, particularly in Lys and Myr. They were both capable of speaking Valyrian with the right accent and rarely engaged with northern nobilities—perfect reasons why Wyman presented them for the scheme he came up with for Lyanna.

“She finally gave up?” he confirmed.

“Yes, Lord Stark, just like you said” Wilma, replied then added, “I must say my lord, I didn’t understand your plan at first and thought it madness but now I strongly support it. Lady Lyanna seems to me an exceptionally stubborn child. Three days of only a glass of water each day. She refused to speak for three days. Only giving up when she was threatened with rape”

“She’s always been a strong-willed child. I needed to do this to teach her a lesson. One I hope she never forgets in her lifetime”

“I hope so too, my lord, for her sake and House Stark’s” Torrhen agreed then with hard blue eyes, added in a grave voice, “There are far many monstrous men and women out there who could and would do unspeakable harm to innocent and naïve girls like her. I have seen far many hollow-eyed young women serving as prostitutes and slaves in the free cities—people who still breathe but are already dead inside. Lady Lyanna is lucky to have you going so far as to teach her harsh lessons to ensure she doesn’t fall victim to the same cruel fates”

The man’s words made Rickard feel relieved. It was good to hear that someone understood why he resorted to such an act, “Thank you ser. You made sure she didn’t notice it was a woman who tried to do it to her my lady?”

“Exhausted, hungry and weakened as she was, no, she didn’t notice anything my lord” Wilma responded.

“Good. Keep her tied and unable to see but feed her. Ensure she gets no fork or knife or any sharp implements please. Let her sleep on a bed. Continue with the threats so she doesn’t get complacent but feed her small bits of information as to where the ship is going. Have the boat travel up the White Knife and past White Harbor, we’ll do the pretend attack and rescue. I assume Wyman already told you what to do?”

Torrhen was the one who replied this time, “Yes my lord. The pig’s blood will be ready. The boat will look a site of an attack when you come get her”

“Good. And I trust none of this event will ever come to light?”

Torrhen looked him in the eye, blue eyes solemn, “The only other ones involved are three trusted cousins of ours Lord Stark. You have our word none of this will ever be spoken of. On House Manderly’s honor”

“You have my gratitude Ser, my lady. If there is a boon you would like granted and within my capability, tell me so”

Wilma only smiled, “No need for payments Lord Stark. Everything House Manderly has now, we owe it to House Stark. It’s our pleasure to serve and help you in this matter my lord”

“My sister is right my lord. No debt is owed in this” Torrhen agreed with Wilma.

Rickard nodded in acceptance and chuckled “In that case, I look forward to saving my foolish daughter from your dastardly hands in a sennight”


	31. Lyanna/Rickard/Rhaegar/Sansa

Lyanna

Distant noises jolted Lyanna awake from her light sleep. When she focused more, she heard loud shouts, swords clanging, heavy footsteps and sounds of bodies and other unrecognizable things thumping on wood.

 _The ship was being attacked!_ By who? She didn’t know. But she fervently hoped it’s northerners, not more pirates or slavers who might take her for their own prize and be sold as a slave in the Free Cities.

The noise got louder and louder until suddenly, she heard the door to her prison room being kicked open then someone shouted.

“My lord! Lord Stark she’s here. The Lady Lyanna is here!”

She bit back a sob of immense relief upon hearing the name Stark. _Her father has come to save her! Thank the gods._

Not a moment longer she heard more footsteps approaching the room then she heard her father’s voice call her, “Lyanna”

She heard people approach her then hands hurriedly removed her gag and the ropes around her hands and feet. When her eyes were finally uncovered, she immediately closed them when she felt acute pain upon looking at a torchlight.

“Keep your eyes closed for now my lady. I imagine not being able to open them for days will make them sensitive to light” a man advised her and Lyanna followed. 

"Can you stand Lyanna? Can you walk?” her father’s grave voice sounded close.

Someone helped her stand and it took her sometime to get her balance. Her legs had been kept bound for too long and she felt weakened.

“I will carry you” her father said and she felt him bend close then his hands were on the back of her knees and around her to lift her in his arms. Overwhelmed, she kept quiet and simply buried her face on his chest and breathed in his familiar, comforting smell.

“Torrhen, have the men gather the remaining slavers and execute them and set the ship on fire with their corpses”

“Aye Lord Stark, it shall be done”

“I want to watch! I want to see them get executed. I want to see them suffer for what they’ve done to me” Lyanna blurted out. _I want to see the bastards and bitches who made me suffer. I want to see them as they die. It’ll be my vengeance._

There was awkward silence for a while then her father spoke coldly, “How many men did we lose Torrhen?”

The other man cleared his throat before speaking low, “Seven my lord”

“And how many of those seven have children left behind?”

“Five of them my lord, some very young children and two babes, that I know of”

“Did you hear that Lyanna? Did you hear the cost of your stupidity? Seven men died to help me rescue you and left their innocent young children behind. And now you have the nerve to act as though you’re the wronged party? How many more tragedies have to happen before you stop acting so selfishly? Don’t think I haven’t realized how you came to be in this situation. Your captors were happy enough to tell me how they got to you”

A coldness came over Lyanna at the words. She hadn’t realized—her father knows her attempt to run away! And the men who died, she didn’t mean to be the cause of so much deaths. She slowly opened her eyes and flinched when she saw his blurry but angry face looking down at her, “I… father I’m sorry I never meant for—”

“Shut your mouth. I don’t want to hear your voice. You will only speak when you’re spoken to”

Lyanna clamped her mouth shut and lowered her head in shame. Her father continued walking and through sensitive eyes still, she saw the horrific scene of the small ship’s deck.

Under the faint light of the moon and the dancing flames of the torches, she saw a few bodies strewn across the floor. There was so much blood and the smell almost made her gag.

“See the mess your running away has caused? Some of those are Lord Wyman’s loyal men.”

Forcefully swallowing the stone of blame in her throat, Lyanna tearfully and tiredly closed her eyes.

***

Rickard 

Rickard watched stonily as Lyanna squirmed in front of him. Her reaction during the ‘ _rescue_ ' had been very unsatisfying and made him feel as though all his scheming had been for naught.

“Father I…I know I did wrong. I am sorry. I didn’t mean for all this to happen. I didn’t mean for people to die. I…I would like to meet the families of the men who died saving me, father”

“To do what?”

“To thank them. I… the children, I want to—”

Rickard decided to cut her off, “To tell them empty platitudes? To tell them their fathers died trying to save your skin? How will that help them? Will that feed them when their bellies are empty? Will that keep them warm when winter comes and they’re huddling somewhere cold because they lost their protectors and providers?”

Lyanna’s lips trembled and she looked to be near tears, “It’s…it’s not enough, I know. But I only mean to show them at least my gratitude. Their fathers did their duty and—”

“Duty! Hah!” Rickard barked, “Duty you say. Don’t you find it ironic, Lyanna, that men had to die doing their duty to our House because you refused to do your duty? You think your position as a noble and your Stark name gives you the right to demand others to do their duty but refuse to do your part?”

He watched without remorse as she took a step back and lowered her head.

“You want to show your gratitude? Stop being such a selfish cunt and do your damned duty!”

***

Rhaegar 

There was an even more acute sense of danger in the air in the capital this past sennight. It seems to be one problem after another. First the Defiance of Duskendale, then his father’s madness and now these rumors circling like dark crows.

 _Another Blackfyre_. Rhaegar frowned at the thought. _Over sixty years. When will that accursed line finally end? How many more Targaryen kings will have to suffer for Aegon the Unworthy’s mistake of fathering bastards? Will I have to suffer a Blackfyre Rebellion during my reign too?_

The disturbing rumors came through traders and seafarers. None can say how and where exactly it started but tales from the Free Cities say it started at either the docks or taverns of Pentos.

The rumor has spread so quickly that in a moon, it has reached Lys, Myr, Tyrosh, Braavos and now Kingslanding. And with the feast for the Father happening in mere days, with so many people flocking to the capital for a chance to enter the Great Sept of Baelor and to trade their goods and wares in bazaars all around the city, the spread of it has become even swifter and difficult to mitigate.

His father the king frothed in anger and fear upon learning of such rumor. Already three people from Flea Bottom were beheaded and a few others placed in the dungeons for having been caught discussing the rumor so openly in the streets.

“It’s unthinkable. That another Blackfyre still lives and there could be another war looming on the horizon. Like unwanted weed, that line seems to always find a way of surviving and making a mess of things” Rhaegar heard Arthur speak in a low voice while walking beside him.

Suddenly they heard commotion and he saw his squire Jon Connington, recently returned to the capital from Griffin’s Roost, running to his direction with excitement on his face.

As soon as the young Lord of Griffin stopped in front of him, he bowed respectfully then exclaimed with wide eyes, “My Prince! Quick! You must come quickly to the Great Hall! They have just discovered the Blackfyre!”

Rhaegar stilled in surprise at the highly unexpected news, “How? How was he found so quickly?”

“It was Ser Barristan, My Prince! Someone sent him a letter in secret to let him know of the Blackfyre’s true identity. You won’t believe who it is. I’m telling you. It’s all so…so bizarre”

“Who is it?” Rhaegar demanded, voice a bit louder than his usual tone.

“It’s the Spider! Varys!”

***

Sansa 

Sansa stood below one of the shadowed arches surrounding the Great Hall of the Red Keep. Behind her stood her Uncle Tygett, Larra and Raya and at her opposite sides were her Uncle Gerion, Maege and Lysarra.

She didn’t join the great assembly out of curiosity. No, she knows exactly what’s happened just as her uncles and father did. She merely attended to see the end of their plot.

Just as they discussed, her father had used his spies to secretly spread rumors of a Blackfyre in the docks of Pentos. She had decided it was better to have the rumors start someplace else to ensure less people got caught and killed unjustly. With the rumor starting in Pentos, Varys would’ve found it almost impossible to link to anyone in Westeros and the Mad Cripple won't be able to order to just capture or kill anyone from there. With Pentos so close to the other Free Cities, the rumors also easily spread from port to port. 

It had gone all according to plan and last night, a trusted servant of Tywin’s slipped a letter in Barristan Selmy’s cell in the White Tower while he was taking his scheduled rest for that week.

Just as expected of the man who slew Maelys the Monstrous, the bold kingsguard had been quick to act to claim another victory and honor to his name. Only a few hours after dawn, they got word that the new Commander of the Kingsguard has arrested the spymaster and brought him before Aerys.

And here they are now.

The Great Hall was filled by many curious lords and ladies who are in the capital for the feast. At the center of the gathering and in front of the King seated on the ugly Iron Throne was Varys, bound by heavy chains and kneeling in front of the man he’d been whispering secrets to the other day.

“You Blackfyre scum!!!” the King shouted, eerie violet eyes mad and his spittle flying everywhere. “How dare you pretended to serve while you schemed behind my back to take my throne and destroy my house! How dare you!!!”

Varys' clothes of rich silks and velvets looked very unkempt. He also had bruises, his face looked sickly pale and his voice trembled when he spoke. Whether out of real fear or mummery, it was hard to tell.

“You’re Grace, whatever vile rumor was spread against my person, I assure you they are nothing but lies. Lies Your Grace. I only live to serve you and the realm you rule”

“Lies! All lies! Barristan has received a letter containing information about you. And some of them sounded real enough! And I believe them to be true! Pycelle, I command you, read the letter for all to witness this traitor scum’s crime against I, your King and House Targaryen!”

The maester hurried to do as he was commanded and read the letter.

_To His Grace King Aerys II of House Targaryen, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm_

_Your Grace, I write the truth and nothing but the truth. I am a nobleman from Pentos, with a wife and many children who are all ignorant and innocent of my crimes thus I cannot step out from the shadows and introduce myself for fear of terrible retribution being done unto them._

_I am guilty of many crimes Your Grace. Of murder and robbery and adultery. Of slander and espionage. Of betraying many people for my own gain—for power, lands, wealth, positions, prestige._

_My soul is doomed to the seven hells, this I am certain and yet I write to confess the terrible crime I have knowledge of because the thought of the consequences of such a conspiracy—of a terrible vengeance reaped from the blood and bones of thousands upon thousands of lives of men and women and innocent children—such a sin even my soul cannot bear._

_I urge you, Your Grace, arrest Varys the Eunuch and execute him before the sun sets lest he slip away in the darkness of the night through vile sorcery._

_Why am I urging you this, Your Grace would no doubt ask. My answer is this:_

_Because he is a traitor Your Grace. A traitor to your crown, the House Targaryen and the Seven Kingdoms._

_He is no Spider. He is a Black Dragon—a Blackfyre biding his time to exact revenge and destroy House Targaryen and render it nothing but ashes, innocents of the Seven Kingdoms be damned in the process._

_I know him very well for we have worked and plotted and committed crimes together for many years._

_His mother was an exceptionally beautiful whore, greatly favored by Daemon Blackfyre and coveted by Maelys. And they fought over her the same way Bloodraven and Bittersteel bitterly fought over Shaera Seastar. Aside from leadership and control of the Golden Company, she was the reason why Maelys the Monstrous resorted to kinslaying and twisted and tore off Daemon’s head from his shoulders so cruelly. When Daemon died, the whore became Maelys bedslave._

_She was pregnant when she got news of Maelys’ defeat at the hands of Barristan the Bold. Fearing for her life and her unborn child’s, she escaped to Lys knowing that should the child be born with Valyrian features, none would think differently there. She secretly gave birth to a son, the last of the Blackfyres. Varys._

_When his whore mother died, he was apprenticed as an orphan to a troupe of mummers who provided entertainment in the Free Cities and occasionally Kingslanding. When he saw the splendor of House Targaryen that was denied to him because of his bastard blood, he started having ambitions._

_While in Myr, a sorcerer bought him, cut off his manhood at the stem and used it for a blood magic ritual. The sorcerer used him because of the little amount of accursed king’s blood that runs through his veins._

_After this event Varys swore to get revenge for all the tragedies he has endured. He learned from the mistakes of his Blackfyre predecessors and knew starting a war while the Seven Kingdoms is united under the King's peace will give him nothing but defeat. So he bided his time. He went to Pentos and there created a reputation for espionage and sabotage, knowing excellence in such trades will put him near the Iron Throne one way or another._

_What happened in Duskendale was no mere scheme of the Darklyns, Your Grace. It was a deliberate plot created by Varys the Eunuch with the Lady Serala. They had been acquaintances in Myr, you see, and Varys used the Lady Serala to get closer to you. He had induced her to use vile sorcery upon the Lord Denys Darklyn to demand for your presence in Duskendale and make you a hostage._

_And he has succeeded. He is now in your employ, a man you trust to stand beside you and paid generously to give you information but does nothing but whisper half-truths and lies._

_Varys is excellent at both subterfuge and sabotage and thrives in chaos. To him, chaos is a ladder. And right now in your service, he is creating chaos so he could climb high._

_He means to destroy you and House Targaryen by making you see enemies where there are none, alienating you from your people and loyal allies both, inducing bad blood and infighting among great noble houses. He means to foment rebellions that will throw the Seven Kingdoms in unspeakable chaos to seat himself or another Blackfyre pretender on the Iron Throne._

_Execute him before sunset Your Grace and put an end to his cursed blood and house. Sleep with the knowledge that you are the King to finally put down the last of Blackfyres and rise the next day with the assurance that your throne is secure and House Targaryen’s reign is without rival._

_Glory to King Aerys of House Targaryen! Glory to the true dragons! Long may they reign!_


	32. Sansa/Rhaegar/Ned

Sansa

Seated on his ugly throne of half-melted, broken, twisted swords wrenched from the hands of dead men or yielded up by defeated foes of Aegon the Conqueror, Aerys clearly looked the image of a man barely clinging to his sanity.

After paying deaf ears to Varys' pleads for innocence and mercy, he shouted for a man named Rossart. The name sounded familiar to Sansa but she couldn’t remember from where.

Then, a man with a disturbing appearance followed by several more men rolling a covered cart joined the assembly. He was pale and thin with a manic look to his eyes and a sinister curl to his mouth similar to the Bastard of Bolton's. He was wearing what looked to be heavy brown robes and was carefully, almost reverently, holding a small jar with murky green liquid inside. Seeing that _thing_ made her realize who exactly he was and what was about to happen.

Rossart. Wisdom Rossart. She heard about him in passing in one of her lessons with Maester Luwin. She hadn’t paid him that much attention because of the tragedy his name came with. This was the last Hand of King Aerys in that other life. This was one of the men who watched as Rickard Stark was slowly cooked alive in his steel armor while he was suspended in the rafters and Brandon Stark strangled himself to death in his struggle to reach for a sword to save himself and his father. And it seems he wasn’t just the Hand, he’s the Mad King’s head pyromancer as well.

_The Alchemist Guild! How could have I ignored them? Perhaps I should follow Arya’s footsteps and make a comprehensive list of people I should take care of? I must leave no stone unturned. Many tragedies have happened because of many small things having been overlooked._

In the other life, she had heard many stories told of how the Mad King had loved burning people alive with wildfire after his unfortunate time spent as a prisoner in Duskendale. She didn’t think today would be the start.

“A black dragon are you?! Then let us see how true it is. Let us see how well you handle fire! Burn him! Burn him!” the mad king raged.

The men who were with Rossart uncovered the cart and out came a small wooden stand then a tall pole and some ropes. They mounted the pole on the stand then they forcefully dragged Varys and tied him securely to it until he almost couldn’t move.

The man Rossart stepped close to Varys and opened the lid of the jar. His minions also moved forward and dipped the tip of their brushes in the substance. Then, like painters, they started to methodically lather the squirming Varys’ clothes with it.

Murmurs of ‘wildfire’ rose up in the crowd and the many courtiers close to the Iron Throne and Varys took many panicked and hurried steps back, forcing those behind them to also move until a large circle with only Varys and the man Rossart along with his minions was left.

“What in seven hells is that?” Maege asked quietly in confusion.

Sansa answered her. “Wildfire”

“Wildfire! But that’s—” Larra gasped horrified.

“Yes. Yes. We all know what it does. Hush” Sansa immediately tried to stop her.

“Perhaps we should leave now. This isn’t a sight for you niece” Gerion muttered low at her side.

“No. No we can’t leave now. There are many of us. Doing so may cause us to gather unwanted attention, especially from the King. I don’t want to find out what he’ll do if that happens, do you?” Sansa hissed.

“She’s right. No unnecessary moves, idiots, else we face the wrong end of the King’s wrath. Especially when he’s not feeling particularly merciful. Now, all of you be quiet and eyes forward. No more talking nor squirming,” Tygett ordered through gritted teeth.

Sansa did her best to school her expression as she watched the proceedings. She had expected execution but she didn’t think it’ll be a death through wildfire. And the first one at that.

The first through wildfire but not the first nor the last who’s going to die for her schemes. How many exactly died already? Three others? More? If her real father could see her now. Honorable Ned Stark would disapprove no doubt. And her mother? Robb? What would they think? Would they compare her to Cersei? Call her Littlefinger’s protégé? Call her the dishonorable wolf?

 _They’d certainly judge my actions. Perhaps harshly. And mayhap they’ll think me unworthy of being a Stark,_ she thought bitterly then shook her head. _It doesn’t matter what they think. They died! They died because they were too blinded by their ideals and emotions and refused to make the difficult choices—refused to do what was necessary. They died and left the rest of us to grow up early under dangerous situations and to suffer and deal with the consequences of their actions. They have no right to judge me._

Varys is far too dangerous to be left spinning his webs. He needed to be taken care of. If she didn’t do it, Varys will grow more powerful and the damage he’d be capable of would be bigger, the number of lives he could destroy with his words alone would be far greater.

To stand alone with none the wiser of her future knowledge and nightmares and fears behind the mask she’s grown. To play other men and women like pawns and pit some of them in fights with none of them having a clear idea of what is the truth and what are the lies. To watch some of them become unwitting victims of circumstances not of their own making and get maimed or die—This is the cost of the power she’s trying to have control of. The price of the peace she’s trying to protect. The necessary sacrifices for the future she’s trying to save. Thoughts of justice and honor have no place in it—certainly not the famous Stark honor (if such a thing even existed, which she doubts).

***

Rhaegar 

The letter clearly targeted his father’s madness, fears and ego. It sounded absurd to think that the Spider was a Blackfyre. Plump, bald, effeminate, wears rich silks and velvets and soft slippers Varys? _Then again, he’s not just all that, is he? He’s also obsequious and mysterious and excels at what he does. So who can pick the needle of truth from the haystack of lies?_

The events, the reasons behind them—they all sounded quite half-mad and yet, in some light, plausible enough. But with all the people mentioned already dead and rotting in the ground, there’s no way to either confirm or disprove all the contents of the letter. That’s the reality of it.

And that is why his father the Mad King won’t spare Varys. His fear would want to get rid of a threat and at the same time his pride will have it recorded in history that he was the Targaryen King who ended the Blackfyre line.

He wondered who did it. He looked first at the Lord Hand and immediately dismissed the idea. The man was too… blunt. Too straightforward.

He looked at the Lannisters. If there’s someone capable of the current entertainment occurring, the Great Lion was certainly highly capable of it. But there was no look of satisfaction on the Lord of the West's visage. He looked grim as ever.

He turned to look the other gathered lords when he accidentally caught sight of the face of his young betrothed under one of the arches surrounded by her ladies and guards. He frowned. _Why was she in the hall? She shouldn’t be here. The next scene wasn’t going to be kind to the eyes of a child. I’ll need to have words with her and her uncles to stay away from court after this._

He turned his head to observe other people some more.

Lord Velaryon, the Master of Ships, looked pleased and eager to see the Spider dead. Lord Staunton too, for that matter. Could it be one of them who plotted this? For influence over the king? But many of the attending lords in the audience looked pleased too. So who? _I should like to give them my thanks for removing such a hindrance. It would also be an advantage to have them on my side and to keep them under my thumb, be they friend or foe._

He returned his attention to the front when he heard his father bellowed once more to have the Spider burned.

The alchemists were doing the last strokes to lather the pale and violently squirming Varys with the dangerous substance. After they were done, they all stepped back and moved out of sight. An archer stood at the foot of the hulking Iron Throne near one of the braziers.

The many courtiers took many more steps back, pressing those behind to move further away.

“Burn him! Burn the Blackfyre scum! Do it!”

The archer lit the arrow and in another moment, the flaming tip was buried in Varys' shoulder.

And he erupted into green flames. His screams loud and horrifying but short. Some of his skin peeling off and the smell of his charred meat nauseatingly disgusting.

While the King laughed madly and clapped like a child, the noble men of the court could only watch in quiet horror while some of the women closed their eyes and covered their ears. A few even lost control of their stomach and vomited while others fainted.

 _That’s it,_ Rhaegar thought with satisfaction, _look and see and be disgusted of the madness and cruelty of your king. Come to my side. Give me your support. And when the time is right, help me rid of this blight and bring the Seven Kingdoms to new heights._

***

Ned 

Ned carefully watched his father’s long and tired face.

“It’s been almost two moons Ned and things have not changed. I fear what happened was all in vain. I have thought long and hard and… I think it is for the best that I break Lyanna’s betrothal with Robert Baratheon. She’s a political liability and so far away in the south, so near the capital, who knows what damage she’ll cause House Stark with her actions? I need her close and contained so she doesn’t hurt us more. Just imagine how difficult it would be to arrange advantageous marriages for your children with powerful southron houses in the future if Lyanna destroys our reputation? We do not need such mark on name”

Ned felt disappointed at the news, at the missed chance of becoming good brothers with Robert. _No. My desires are unimportant. I know better now. I must focus on what needs to be done for the good of House Stark and the North._ “And… and what will happen now?”

“I will look for another betrothal for her with one of the Umbers or Karstarks or the Mountain clans. Or perhaps Jeor’s heir.”

“But what will you tell the Lord Baratheon father?” Ned asked, wondering how his father will get out of the unwanted situation.

“When I have found a new match for Lyanna, I shall send a messenger to hand a letter in person. I will have to make excuses, I might use the situation with the Boltons and the Ryswells or simply lie about Lyanna having fallen in love and following her wishes. It’s a mess but better a mess we can deal with than one that will see us suffer untold long-term losses. You understand don’t you?”

Ned nodded in understanding.

Ever since his family journeyed south, nothing had gone right. First, father had been disappointed enough with Lyanna that he left her stewing in anger at Casterly Rock. Then Brandon’s betrothal with the Lady Sansa was broken. Then Brandon died making him the new heir. And now Lyanna.

Despite their mother’s death, Winterfell did not lack in love and laughter. With wild and funny Brandon and Lyanna, everyday had been light and full of childhood adventures. Games of hide-the-treasure throughout the castle, monsters-and-maidens in the crypts, riding and hunting in the wolfswood, swordfights in the yard—Brandon, Lyanna and he had all done it together.

But now, wild and funny Brandon is dead and wild and funny Lyanna has become tiring and dangerous. She doesn’t see a problem in her own beliefs and her attitude and actions, no matter what they do.

He never knew—he never imagined his sister would be capable of such defiance, of such utter selfishness and disregard for their father’s authority and her station and duties to their house and their people. It’s a jarring realization he’s found difficult to swallow at first but now… there’s nothing else to do now but look the truth in the face: some people are just meant to be left behind so they learn to carry their own weight or cut off so their rot does not infect others.

He'll have to stop wasting his time on her and ensure Benjen grows up a better person who understands his role and responsibilities. He can’t act the caring and supportive brother anymore to Lyanna. Not when what he and his father are trying to build and protect, she is foolishly trying with all her might to tear apart. 


	33. Tywin/Sansa/Lyanna

Tywin 

“Was it you?” Steffon bluntly asked.

Tywin only made a slow blink but did not answer. If the fool thought he’d confess to what technically amounted to a murder and implicate himself, then he really was just that—a fool.

“Tsk. Still an arse, I see. It’s not like I’m mourning for Varys. Seven hells, I would even have a feast prepared to celebrate the occasion if I could. He certainly was no friend to me. Now I can go on doing my duties peacefully for a madman without him sticking on my back.”

Steffon raised his goblet, “A toast for Varys the Spider. Or was it Blackfyre? Whatever. May his soul find peace in the seven hells. Good riddance” then he took a long pull on his wine like a commoner in a tavern.

Feeling he had had enough of the man’s presence, Tywin chose the blunt approach “Is this all you came here for Steffon? My wine and to toast a dead insect?”

“No actually," Steffon put down his drink and his face became grim. "That _thing_ , those mad burners—they’re very dangerous, especially in this city with half a million people. The thought that barrels of that substance are being made somewhere without us, the Small Council, getting proper knowledge of where exactly they are being stored and who exactly are included in their guild of madness—it’s inexcusable and a sign of gross neglect. Velaryon and Staunton are both useless. They’re nothing but dogs eager to lick their master’s arse. They won’t help get this dilemma taken care of. I came because I need your help Tywin. You have more people, I know it. You clearly see what’s happening. With a lunatic who’s thinking he’s a dragon, who’s to say we all won’t wake up burning in our homes or in our beds one day if we just let this issue slide?”

“And what is it exactly you want me to do?”

“Whatever you can do. I’m tied up Tywin. I need your help. I don’t have many trusted men here in the capital and what few I have aren’t exactly subtle. And you know some of the Stormlander houses hold more loyalty to the throne than my house. Take Connington and Lonmouth for instance.”

“Hn. Very well. I will do my part. But don't think to ask me for any information on how I deal with them”

“I won’t. Just your word you’ll do something about it is enough”

***

“Father, that wildfire the King used to execute Varys, those people from the Alchemist Guild—”

“Will be mine to take care of.” Tywin cut his daughter off, “My people have already started investigating weeks ago and have some of the members under watch. Do not concern yourself with this.”

She looked him intently in the eye before she nodded.

“And how are your interactions with Rhaegar?” Tywin asked to shift the subject.

He knows the projects the two are working on. He’s not asking about those. What he’s curious of is his daughter’s views and opinions of the Crown Prince as well as her observations of the goings-on and the people in the capital. He’s found her insight a lot more helpful and useful than many men combined.

“Jon Connington has started joining us. So has others. His squires Mooton and Lonmouth. I don’t like Connington. His attitude leaves much to be desired. Prideful and condescending. Please have some of your people look into his affairs”

Tywin’s brow raised at the request, “What for?”

The girl talked at a lower tone, “Information. Just in case a time comes when I have need for it. Look into his personal relationships in particular. I suspect he’s got… deviant inclinations”

“Deviant inclinations”

“Ones the Faith would no doubt condemn if brought out in the open and proven true. I suspect he’s a sword-swallower” was his daughter’s serious response.

Tywin straightened in his chair and took a sip of his watered wine before confirming what she just said,

“That sort of inclination. How ever did you discover that?”

“I’ve got eyes father. Others may see it as friendship and loyalty but his eyes and tone say something else to me. He looks more infatuated with the Prince than I am. He looks at Prince Rhaegar as though the sun rises and sets and the moon and stars shine by his command”

Well, that is indeed enough reason to look into the young man’s life. Who knows what he’ll do to his daughter if he is indeed harboring disgusting feelings for the Prince? People in love or lust are prone to throwing good sense out of the window to get what they want. “Hn. Very well”

Then a sudden thought struck Tywin and caused him momentary worry, “And Rhaegar? Does he share the same…predilection?”

He saw a gleam of amusement in her eyes and he scowled when she smiled, no doubt at him, “No. Rhaegar is full of himself and in truth shows little care for everyone else not named Rhaegar Targaryen” 

Tywin couldn’t help but raise his brow again, “Indeed? And how are you handling that?”

“ I am not offended, if that is what you’re asking Father. I am no naïve child who needs his words of love and devotion or other such drivel. I do not need him to validate myself. I know my worth and I know my goals. I go with the current but I’ll do what I must whenever necessary”

Tywin’s lip twitched at the answer before he gave a firm nod of approval, “Good”

Once more he felt relieved for fathering this child. If this had been Cersei, he’ll no doubt be in a very unpleasant situation, forced to deal with either a long list of demands or idiotic tantrums. Worse, he may never have this chance of putting Lannister blood on the throne.

Thank the gods Joanna gave him two children he could count on to carry on his hopes for House Lannister. He didn’t want to know what would’ve become of Jaime had Cersei been his only sister. Probably grown up stupid and reckless and die young like Brandon Stark did.

Or, without his younger sister to catch and tell him of Cersei’s disgusting actions, he’d probably grown up a sister-fucker.

The thought was nauseating and horrifying.

***

Sansa

She had a dream. And it was strange and felt familiar at the same time.

She dreamt she was floating in the air.

She knew she was in the air because she felt the cold wind and she could see the ground far below. She panicked thinking she was going to fall and die or worse, live a cripple. She scrambled and tried to reach for anything but when she looked at her hands, she saw no hands. She saw dark wings. She moved them and ended up going higher and higher to where the wind got colder instead of landing her feet on comfortable, safe and solid ground.

Then she realized she was flying. Good gods she was flying.

She kept moving her arms until she felt it become natural as breathing. When she looked down again, she realized that what she was looking at were roofs of houses. She looked around and that’s when she saw it in the distance.

The Red Keep! She was looking at it from above!

She moved her arms some more until she neared the structure. She looked down and saw the familiar massive curtain walls surrounding the castle with its nests and crenellations for archers. The stone parapets, the thick bronze gates and portcullises, the immense barbican with massive cobbled square in front of it. She also saw the small inner yards and the vaulted halls and the serpentine steps that connected one building to another. When she looked further, she saw the beautiful colors created by sun about to rise on the horizon.

She was up there in the air for several minutes. Or perhaps hours? She did nothing but simply looked down and around her in wonder. Then she felt some kind of a shock and when next she opened her eyes, she was in bed, looking up at the canopy.

She knew the answer to what she experienced right away.

A warg.

Bran was a warg. Arya and Jon too. Perhaps Robb as well based on the reputation he created during the war.

She’s seen Bran do it and heard him explain a bit what it was like. He did it with ravens and Summer. Arya and Jon also shared something similar, like looking through Ghost’s and Nymeria’s eyes. They suspected it’s a Stark thing. A gift of the Old Gods. One she’d been denied of.

She had secretly been very jealous then. Another mark against her. Another proof of being more Tully than Stark, more trout than wolf. Another point for the proud and loyal ( _traitorous_ ) northern lords to use and secretly deride and judge her for being more southron than northern. Of having been forgotten and forsaken by the gods of not just her mother but of her father too.

She hadn’t been able to do it in the past. So she hadn’t expected to be able to do it this time. Lady was killed what felt like several lifetimes ago. She didn’t think she’ll be capable of the same as her magical, brave and strong sister and brothers.

But then again, she also hadn’t expected to see dragons and dead people marching, had she? And this thing of being reborn as a Lannister, being Tywin’s daughter and Jaime’s and Cersei’s sister of all people, she hadn’t expected this too. Just as she hadn’t expected to meet all the ghosts whose choices and actions haunted her past life. What is another strangeness added to it all?

Oh but a warg! She almost giggled like a loon. The many possibilities!

Bran had used his abilities to spy on the movement of the dead. Could she do the same with hers and use it to spy on her enemies? Could she mayhap use it to assassinate them? Could she even do it again?

But she’ll have to be careful. Wargs are not seen positively, especially in the south. Here they are creatures of evil.

If anyone discovers she’s a warg, it might spell her doom. They’ll probably drag her in the streets for all to see, naked and being pelted with rotten fruits and vegetables and shit.

Or Aerys might have her skinned alive to see if she really could skinchange. Or probably cook her in a pot of wildfire. Yes, she can imagine Aerys punishing her like that.

And her family will certainly suffer too. They’d probably get executed alongside her. It’s a very convenient excuse for Aerys to get rid of Tywin Lannister once and for all and take all the gold of Casterly Rock for his own.

But it’s too useful a skill to let go of. She'll just have to be really careful. She has to learn to control it and control when she can do it. But first, how did she do it again?

***

Lyanna 

Lyanna stood silently fuming as her father spoke coldly to her of his new plan for her future.

“Jorah Mormont, that is who your new betrothed is. You refuse to do your duty and marry Robert Baratheon. You don’t want to be confined to the roles of a lady. But you will marry. As is your duty to our house and the North. With the Mormonts, you won’t have to wear dresses and act like a proper highborn girl. You can wear breeches. You can swing your sword. You can even fight and kill reaving ironborn scum. You can fulfill your dreams of being a warrior. But not here in Winterfell and not in places where your wildness will be an embarrassment to our House. This is not a choice. It is a command. One you will follow”

For almost five moons now, she has received nothing but cold and silent treatment from him. Even Ned now looked differently at her. Or more appropriately, he looked more indifferent to her.

And Ben! Little Ben. Her father had ordered her to keep quiet and act proper around Ben saying he doesn’t need another stupid, wild wolf.

Her father has ostracized her in her own home. He just refused to understand, refused to recognize her right to a choice. Even with all the things she could do in Bear Island, from an arranged marriage to another—what is the difference?

 _But there’s no escaping it now_ , she thought bitterly. _He’s got me guarded night and day and I am sure he wouldn’t hesitate to drag me to the heart tree on my wedding day._

She’ll have to start learning to accept it. At least she’ll still be in the north. And everything he said of the things she could do there were at least true.

Better Bear Island. The women there are not expected to act like stiff-necked chits who know nothing but sing and dance and sew and be pretty.

Aye. Better Jorah Mormont than Robert Baratheon. Better Bear Island than the stupid and stuffy south. 


	34. Sansa/Tywin

Sansa

Sansa searched the entire Red Keep library surreptitiously for information or any tip available about warging but found nothing but garbage saying it was a vile practice frowned upon by the Faith.

She was forced to learn warging all on her own. It wasn’t easy as Bran made it appear in the past. It was extremely difficult. At least for her. Or perhaps it’s just another lesson she’s slow to learn.

At first, she could only warg when her body was asleep at night until dawn. After around another moon, she was able to extend it to until mid-morning.

For a moon, the easiest to warg into were birds, especially doves and ravens. She discovered that if she’s warging a bird flying with its flock, she can easily jump from one bird to another or one bird to another small animal down on the ground.

She has done it using a stray puppy then a cat. The puppy was easy enough to warg. There had been very little resistance. What was difficult was afterwards. Oh how nauseating it was to have an even more sensitive nose in the middle of the shitpile of the city called Kingslanding.

And the cat! Gods but what a truly disgusting experience that was. Thoughts of that one always turned her stomach. 

The cat was very hungry and its first instinct had been to pounce and devour when it saw a rat. She failed to get out of the wretched creature fast enough. One moment she was still, the next she was looking at a bloody, half-eaten rat caught in her paws. She bolted out of the beast and ran to the privy so fast and retched until her stomach hurt.

There were harsh lessons learned there. She decided to get pets—three kittens and three puppies of her own. She made sure they were well-fed every night so she could warg them and not have to suffer all their disgusting meal practices.

She also decided to learn and engage in falconry. It was a perfect excuse to be near birds and to purchase some raptors with long range vision for espionage. It was also a cover for purchasing others that can best see at night, like owls and bat hawks for instance.

Thankfully, her Uncle Tygett and Uncle Gerion were eager to teach her something new. Even her warrior ladies from Bear Island asked to be taught as well.

Just a sennight after she expressed her interest, Gerion made her a proud owner of three beautiful golden eaglets and two eyasses of the majestic silver gyrfalcon breed. He even gifted the other ladies peregrine falcons of their own. The perks of being a Lannister with mountains of gold and being a favorite niece.

She couldn’t just warg larger animals. She learned this when she tried to warg a horse. It had been horrible. Just horrible. The animal had a very strong will of its own and pushed her out with a force that felt like a kick to the head with one of its hooves. She had a headache for at least two hours. She dared not try it again and kept to smaller ones.

During one of her more ambitious forays into warging, she used one of her new kittens to enter the White Sword Tower at dawn. And got an eyeful of Arthur Dayne in all his Dornish warrior glory—still dripping with water, clearly fresh from the bath. The Sword of the Morning possessed an impressive sword indeed.

Feeling as though all the fur on her kitten form’s face were about to burn, she left the tower in a hurry, ears down and tail probably tucked between her legs. She can’t remember really, because the previous sight fried some parts of her brain.

During her many experimental explorations of the Red Keep, she was struck with the realization that the dark corridors she ran through in her strange dreams many years ago were passages under the Red Keep. She then spent some days discovering other passages that led to the dungeons and the black cells and others that turned out to be really important ones.

She found a secret passage that connected the bedchamber of the Tower of the Hand to the dragon mosaic down the lower levels. She also found a secret way to get out of the Red Keep onto the cliffs facing the sea. She found another that leads to a sewer that empties into the river.

Realizing the importance of the escape routes, she resolved to make a secret map of the tunnels for future use.

***

Tywin 

Tywin stared as the thin, stooped man, another pale, thin man and his equally pallid son stood in front of him. All three warily looked at him then at the guards surrounding them.

He wondered if all the members of the Alchemist Guild looked the same. Like sickly creatures.

 _Mayhap they do. Mixing and inhaling and staring at that green monstrosity for moons and years surely must affect their health. What a tragic existence. And they call themselves wisdom after enough training._ Tywin held back a snort at the thought. _Wisdoms. Hah! More like idiots._

“You are blood brothers. Wisdom Pollitor, Wisdom Alyn. And this is acolyte Hallyne, Alyn’s son”

Wisdom Alyn jerked at his voice then nodded swiftly, “Yes my lord”

“You know who I am, I assume”

Pollitor looked at him with careful eyes before answering, “Of course my lord. Who wouldn’t know Tywin Lannister?”

“That’s right. Who wouldn’t? I have served King Aerys faithfully for many years—twenty long years in fact. I did what I could to ensure peace and prosperity in the realm. I made policies that dragged this city from obscurity making it now the most thriving city in all of Westeros. And have you heard the news that my daughter is to marry the Crown Prince and will become the Queen one day?”

The man nodded again, “Yes my lord. Lady Alysanne, I heard her name is. But the people in Flea Bottom call her Lady Sansa and sing her praises. Even prickly merchants love her. She is credit to you my lord”

“Yes, she believes it is her duty to help the poor and downtrodden souls in the city. That’s my kindhearted daughter” Tywin sighed deliberately then turned cold once more, “But now I hear disturbing rumors that the city I worked so hard to make wealthy and the place my daughter is helping and someday will call home is being threatened by your guild using the substance you create.”

Both wisdoms fidgeted and looked, if possible, paler. “We merely follow the King’s commands my lord, just doing our duty” Alyn answered in a submissive tone.

“And putting my daughter, my family and the lives of thousands of innocents at risk—do you consider that part of your duty to a king I’m sure you know barely has a grasp of his sanity?”

The two brothers and the acolyte son kept silent.

“Good men, have you heard what I did to those who threatened my family? What I will do to others who are a danger to my child's life and future? Ever heard the song The Rains of Castamere?”

Pollitor shook like a leaf. Alyn looked at him with wide, fearful eyes while his son Hallyne took three steps back but stood frozen when Tywin shifted his attention to him.

“I had my people bring you to me because I believe it doesn’t have to end in another tragic song. I believe that, together, we can build an amicable relationship and achieve our goals. Your family, I came to learn, has served the guild for generations. And yet it is dangerous men from no-name families with questionable goals like Rossart and his minions who run the order. What say you to an alliance?”

Both brothers and Hallyne’s eyes widened and a look of interest showed on their faces. “An alliance my lord?”Alyn the elder, asked in a careful tone.

“Yes. You will have leadership of the guild. You will have the support of House Lannister and its gold and vast resources and at the same, you will serve the realm better. And when my daughter becomes queen, I will ensure you will receive your proper due for your years of unappreciated quiet service. Titles and lordships and mayhap lands and their corresponding incomes”

The three men gasped in surprise and the father looked at him with hopeful eyes, “Leadership and your support my lord? And support from the crown? Truly?”

 _Easily manipulated ambitious, greedy men. Good._ Tywin thought. “Yes, you have my word. Lannisters pay their debts, I’m sure you have heard. In exchange, you will help me get rid of Rossart and his ilk and ensure your inventions are kept in a safe place far from many people and its distribution shall be transferred to my careful control. You will also give me your word as your bond that you will serve House Lannister and I loyally.”

“Then my son and I accept your offer Lord Lannister” Alyn eagerly answered while Hallyne nodded his head quickly, looking comfortable for the first time since they entered the room.

Pollitor looked close to breaking to a song and dance, “It will be an honor to serve you Lord Lannister. But how do we get rid of Rossart and his men? They have guards from the king my lord”

“Tell me, where have your people stored the caches secretly?”

Hallyne looked confused, a clear sign he was unaware. The wisdom brothers looked at each other and nodded before Alyn answered, “There are fifty caches to my last count in the dragonpit my lord. And the rest, over a hundred, are in the vaults in the Guildhall for safekeeping”

“If those fifty in the dragonpit were set to explode, how much will the damage be?”

The two older men gasped with horrified looks clear on their faces. Pollitor was the first to vocalize his protest, “My lord! It’s highly dangerous with fifty! It could burn even the Red Keep!”

“I agree. Too dangerous” Alyn seconded.

“Then how many must be used to ensure the fire is contained in that pit?”

“Five to ten are good and safe numbers my lord” Pollitor answered with Alyn nodding his head in support. “They are newly made and so they can be easily tamed. But I don’t understand why you’re asking all these questions.”

“Can you replace those caches in the dragonpit with empty ones and deliver to my chosen people the actual ones? They must be taken outside of the city carefully”

Alyn nodded slowly, face set in concentration and obviously going through calculations inside his head, “We can my lord but we’ll need time. Maximum of three moons. We cannot do it all at once else they’ll get suspicious of us”

Tywin nodded, “Very well. What is important is they’re moved to a safer place”

Hallyne earned enough courage to talk for the first time, “And what about Wisdom Rossart and his people my lord?”

“The dragonpit. If it were burnt with Rossart and his people there, then it will simply be dismissed as an accident, won’t it? And when the king looks for replacement pyromancers, you will both step forward and serve him. But you won’t forget to whom your lives and allegiances are pledged to, will you?”

Alyn’s face lit up, “Oh certainly my lord. My house and I are at your service”

 _Good. And you will serve me and mine loyally or it’s death and destruction to you and yours,_ Tywin thought, pleased at the result. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @ Tommyginger - there goes the sword of the morning for you 😁


	35. Sansa/Lyanna/Jaime/Tywin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ⚠ This chapter isn't Bobby B friendly.

Sansa 

Warging is indeed a very useful gift.

Three moons since she discovered she has the capability, she completed her map of the underbelly of the Red Keep and is now in the process of committing it to memory.

She has also discovered some more juicy information she could possibly use in the future.

The kingsguard Willem Darry for example has a secret paramour who has a house near the Street of Silk. Monford Velaryon, like his brother Lord Lucerys, has a thing for busty whores. Master of Laws Lord Staunton has a taste for young whores. The High Septon of the Faith is a fraud and a joke—corrupt and gluttonous and lustful. He loves to play-act ‘ _Fuck the Seven_ ' with whores.

So many men with a weakness for whores. It’s no wonder Littlefinger made a business out of pimping and built his own kingdom on the back of poor whores. So many ‘ _nobles_ ' and ‘ _knights_ ' in the capital find their wants and desires fulfilled in whorehouses and their vast selection of goods.

She thought of Tyrion.

Tyrion would make a good master of whores in the future. With the Lannister gold, they could set him up to secretly own establishments all across the Seven Kingdoms and build an espionage empire similar to Littlefinger’s.

It’ll also be a way of helping innocent children and hopeless women. She’s aware prostitution is a rampant problem but she’s also realistic enough to realize it is not something that can be fully eradicated, especially for those who have no other means to survive.

But with Tyrion in control, they can set up measures so women working in the pleasure houses would be afforded some level of protection and get a larger share of their income. They also wouldn’t simply be abused by their patrons and they could be given some help when it comes to getting the service of a maester or healers whenever necessary.

Tyrion can also help screen underage children so they won’t get forced to engage in prostitution. With her connection to orphanages in Kingslanding and especially in Lannisport where children were taught numbers and letters and offered some training in crafts to prepare them to make a decent living of their own once they reach the age of ten and four, parents struggling to feed their children can be given more options and far better solutions rather than sending their children off to whorehouses and selling their young bodies to possibly depraved and dangerous people.

It’s a questionable line of work but it’s one she’s sure Tyrion will personally enjoy a lot. Intelligence gathering will make him feel important in playing his role to keep their family safe from enemies hiding in the dark while also helping people less fortunate like him.

It would also ensure he’d stay far away from her father and prevent their already fraught relationship from becoming even more toxic and avoid pushing him to commit patricide. She’ll need them both by her side. She’ll just have to convince Tywin of giving Tyrion permission. She’s not worried, she’s sure he’ll approve when he hears her reasoning.

While warging brought her many benefits, she also came to recognize it is very, _very_ dangerous. And this is true especially when she’s warging a bird.

The ability to fly, the weightlessness of it, the freedom it makes one feel—it’s exhilarating and very addicting. And the more she did it, the more it made her want to simply forget, fly off and leave everything behind. Something she absolutely cannot and will not do.

In one of her adventures, she warged a raven and flew for hours until she realized the place she reached to be close to the borders of the Riverlands. When she tried to remove herself from the bird, the allure of flying some more was so strong that she found some difficulty in extracting herself.

It frightened her and forced her hand to set limits for her recently discovered ability. She cannot do it all the time and she cannot do it for hours lest she experience negative consequences she cannot fix.

 _Warg only when necessary and with a purpose,_ this has become her mantra.

***

Though both her uncles were knowledgeable enough with falconry, her father decided to hire a professional falconer to teach her, much to her Uncle Tygett’s annoyance.

“If you will devote your time learning something, then you will learn properly from a qualified teacher. You will have a qualified master falconer and not rely on your uncles’ no doubt rusty, secondhand knowledge” her father said with Uncle Gerion rolling his eyes and Uncle Tyg’s irritated face in the background.

They were currently on one of the vast fields overlooking Blackwater Bay. The weather was great. It was not too hot and her uncles deemed it a fine day to get out of the city and train her young birds.

She didn’t know that falconry was such a complicated learning process that could last years. She thought it was a simple, easy and fun activity—just get a bird, build a relationship with it, teach it some tricks and it will learn how to hunt.

Her teacher, a master falconer named Garon, disabused her of her assumption. The equipment, the diet required for the birds, the care and training necessary for them to become efficient hunters—Garon delivered a very long lecture that made her close her eyes and massage her aching temple at the end of it. Talk about biting more than one could chew.

While she suffered a headache in silence, her companions clearly enjoyed the long lecture—Maege and the young Stannis whom she invited most of all.

With none close to his age living at the Tower of the Hand, she learned that Stannis has taken to only two activities: sparring in the yard with his father’s men and spending hours at a time in the Red Keep’s library. When she accidentally met him there during one of her research about warging, she spent some time talking with him.

Unlike his lewd and loud idiot of a brother, Stannis was proper, stoic and clearly intelligent himself but so very awkward around people. He was especially nervous with her. He always looked uncomfortable and could barely look her in the eye every time they spoke. She ignored talking about it to avoid hurting his ego or spook him even more and simply conversed with him like everything was normal, and hoped that with time, he’ll get used to her presence and become comfortable on his own.

She can just imagine how much the introverted boy suffered living almost his entire life in the shadows of Robert Baratheon.

With her father and uncles, despite wounded prides, at least there is respect, even if begrudgingly given at times. Tywin wasn’t a drunk, whoremonger, wastrel of a man who ran Casterly Rock to the ground. He treated his brothers with as much dignity and fairness as he could even if he’s hard and demanding most of the time.

Robert Baratheon on the other hand was not a man that deserved any respect. After leaving his brothers trapped and starving inside Storm’s End surrounded by feasting enemies while he fought in the rebellion that wasn’t even his by right (everyone called it Robert’s Rebellion, conveniently forgetting it was the Starks who first went against Aerys and Jon Arryn who first raised his armies against the Iron Throne), he went on and punished Stannis for not killing the child Viserys and baby Daenerys by denying him Storm’s End. And gave it to the fool Renly who, in the end, thought that just because he could charm better, dress better, and looked better, he’d make a better king.

Oh she knows Stannis was no innocent in that life. She’s known about his vile acts and he probably committed many more mistakes she never even knew or heard of but she’s not here to judge him for those. Right now, he was just a dour but genuinely innocent boy and she’s here to influence him and ensure a better future for all of them, not make an enemy.

“I had a bird once. A goshawk. I found it injured and nursed it back to health” Stannis spoke with a very solemn face, “But it never flew higher than the tree tops. Would you know what could be the reason for that?”

“My lord, the bones of a bird’s wings are extremely delicate. It may be that on the outside it was healed but inside it was not. It could be it was not aligned properly which hindered the bird’s flight. Another reason could be trauma. Despite the use of the word bird-brain to insult someone as stupid, birds are actually very intelligent creatures, more so than others. You know ravens are used to send letters. Parrots, cockatoos, magpies and even crows can be taught to speak. And birds of prey are also quite smart creatures. It could be that your goshawk was severely traumatized with its injury and simply needed time to be confident enough to soar once more” was Garon’s long response.

Sansa took note of how Stannis’ face fell at the words. There’s a story of heartbreak there, one she’d like to discover more about. When it came time for them to take a rest from, she approached him and asked about the bird.

“What happened to your goshawk my lord?”

Stannis looked surprised at her unexpected question then he grinded his teeth and looked away before answering, “When the bird won’t fly higher, my great-uncle convinced me to abandon it. Which I did”

The boy was clearly guilty for abandoning a bird which might have been suffering from trauma.

“Take heart my lord. Who knows? Mayhap your goshawk has finally recovered and is now soaring in the skies. Did you name it?” she asked gently.

Stannis flushed a little and looked discomfited and yet gave an honest answer still, “Yes. Proudwing was the name I gave it but my brother Robert called it Weakwing instead”

 _An opportunity_ , she realized. _Strike_. 

“I met him in Highgarden, your brother Robert that is. He didn’t strike me as a proper, intelligent person like you though. Strong maybe, but loud and lewd and disrespectful. I’m sorry but I must say I quite disliked him. It’s a cruel act the gods made him heir my lord, for I think you’d make a far better Lord of the Stormlands”

Stannis’ dark blue eyes widened and he flushed and opened and closed his mouth over and over again.   
Deeming her work done for the day, she gave him a small, friendly smile and left him alone, still speechless.

 _I must give him a gift,_ she thought and made a note in her head, _A goshawk or two would be a fine gift for follow up and reinforcement of my goodwill._

***

Lyanna 

“Maege has written of the current situation in the capital. It seemed after the public burning of the alleged Blackfyre, the king has retreated to Maegor’s Holdfast and has rarely been seen since. The injury must really be that severe” her father shared to Lord Jeor.

“Aye, my lord. I heard from her too. She said it’s blessed relief to many in the Red Keep. And now it seems they’re indulging in some relaxation. The Lady Lannister is learning falconry and Maege, Larra and Raya are taking advantage and joining the lessons. Gerion Lannister even gifted them each with peregrine falcons. Very generous gifts, I must say” Lord Jeor responded with an amused smile

 _Why can’t we have this meal in peace?_ Lyanna huffed quietly when she heard mention of the Lannister twat and her family. She’s known Lord Jeor’s sister and other female warriors from Bear Island were now serving the little Lannister chit in the capital. She just can’t believe other northern women could be foolishly influenced by the other girl. 

“It seems your sister is really enjoying her time in the capital with the Lannisters. A wonder, that. It’s strange to be reading words of praise for Lannisters from a northerners letters”

Both men laughed before the Lord of Bear Island continued, “All three are particularly fond of the Lady Sansa—said she’s a fierce and clever little thing with a steel in her that could easily pass for a northerners’. And now they got somewhat friendly relations with the brothers Gerion and Tygett but I imagine they’re still wary and angry of Lord Tywin for their initial talk. Maege was quite offended that he gave them instructions regarding grooming and manners and gifted them with trinkets just so they’d not look like paupers next to the little lady”

“No doubt that talk offended our northern ladies but…for a moment, just imagine the unsmiling Great Lion giving a speech about how to dress and wear jewelries to a woman. Isn’t that a most hilarious scene?”

The two men chuckled once more with Ned and her new betrothed Jorah Mormont also smiling in amusement.

Her betrothed. Swarthy and hairy and black-bearded. He looked strong but not very tall nor is he particularly handsome.

 _He’s good with a sword at least_ , she grudgingly thought.

The Lord of Bear Island and his heir were visiting Winterfell to finalize the betrothal agreement. Her father has decided that she will go to Bear Island and foster with the Mormonts while learning their ways in preparation for her becoming the future Lady of Bear Island.

 _You just want me out of your way. You want to get rid of me. All because I refused to bend to your will before. I know it. I’m not a stupid little girl,_ she thought bitterly while ferociously chewing the roasted pork inside her mouth. _The talk about the Ryswells and the Boltons—they were lies. I know it. The Boltons haven’t rebelled in centuries. Why would they think to rebel now when the North is clearly under Stark control? You just used them as alibi because you wanted to manipulate me. We’ll, once I’m married, you can’t make me do anything you want ever again._

***

Jaime 

Jaime is home but he’s missing so many things.

He missed everything about Riverrun. Beautiful Cat, giggly Lysa and mischievous Edmure. Training with the Blackfish and his gruff but understanding disposition. He writes them letters but it’s just not enough .

He missed Sansa very much too. Casterly Rock just isn’t the same without her.

All he has aside from riding and swimming in the sea and training in the yard were Uncle Kevan’s long lectures about the Rock and the West and his Aunt Genna’s reprimands when she feels he’s not giving his best effort to learn more.

And Tyrion. At least he’s got Tyrion. Who’s a fast learner and smart like their sister. And can now read books better than he.

“Little brother what’s that you got there?” Jaime asked when he saw Tyrion standing on his chair and staring at a box, running his small, stubby fingers reverently at it from time to time.

Tyrion looked up at him with amazed, mismatched eyes and smiled wide, “A gift from big sister, straight from the capital!”

Intrigued, Jaime sat on the chair beside him, “When did it arrive?”

“Last night. Sister had it sent through a captain of a merchant ship and Uncle Kevan just gave it to me”

“Well aren’t you going to open it?”

“Oh but I want to look at it some more. What do you think is inside Jaime? A dragon egg?” the boy wondered.

Jaime laughed at the funny guess, “Ty, where would Sansa even get a dragon egg? We’re no dragon lords”

Tyrion pouted at him, “But she’s to marry the Dragon Prince. Surely she can ask for an egg? Just one is enough”

Jaime smiled fondly and reached out and patted his brother on his small back, “I don’t think that’s how it works little brother. And besides, I heard Targaryens are very selfish and protective of their dragon eggs. Just open it and end your agony in guessing already”

Tyrion sighed and moved to twist the locks carefully then opened the box and gasped, “Books!”

He hurriedly took out the books and Jaime helped him when he almost dropped them in his haste.

Books titled _Wonders_ and _Wonders Made by Man_ both written by Lomas Longstrider, the _Jade Compendium_ by Colloquo Votar and _The Nine Voyages_ by a Maester Mathis all came out of the box.

When Jaime looked at his little brother, he felt perplexed when he saw him get teary-eyed.

“What are you crying for? Are you disappointed it’s not a dragon egg? I did tell you it wasn’t possible”

“No! No! That’s not it” Tyrion waved his short arms in protest, “It’s just, these books look really, really good. Sister is a very good gift-giver, isn’t she? Her name day is coming soon. What gift do you think should I give her in return?”

***

Tywin

“All except the five caches we will use to blow up the dragonpit has been removed?” Tywin asked in confirmation.

Pollitor and Alyn both nodded their heads.

“And we also have the ropes saturated in wildfire ready. As discussed, my brother and I will tie them to the caches secretly and we’ll roll and hide them with grass. We’ll leave the ends at the designated points for your men to light” Pollitor added.

“And you are certain the ropes will not accidentally die out?”

Alyn hurriedly assured him, “Oh very certain my lord. My brother and I had it tested secretly. They’re quite thick and with them being soaked with wildfire, it’ll just be like lighting a very long kindling. The spread of the wildfire in the ropes will be swift and once those inside the pit exploded and spread out, those ropes will be easily dismissed”

“Very good. And how about the caches in the Guildhall vaults?”

“All but twenty were moved out my lord” Alyn answered once more. 

Tywin nodded, very pleased, “Good. Very good. We’ll go through with the plan in a sennight. Be prepared”


	36. Sansa/Arthur/Rhaegar

Sansa 

“I take it you’re visiting the orphanage tomorrow with the prince?” Tywin asked in a low voice.

“Yes? What of it?” Sansa tilted her head in question.

“The pyromancers will be dealt with tomorrow. When you hear an explosion while in the orphanage, stay calm. Keep inside. Gerion and Tygett already know what to do.”

“What?!” Sansa asked in alarm, “Father! Say this plan isn’t going to harm other people”

“Of course not. Do you think I’m a fool I would organize to burn the city you and your children will reign one day? Only Rossart and his mad dogs along with others of their ilk will be dealt with. They will burn in the dragonpit”

Worry took hold of her, “I understand you took necessary measures but what if the fire spreads? Wildfire is volatile as I’m sure you know”

“My pyromancers have assured me it’ll be easy to put out in case of spreading. Which it most likely won’t as it’s only going to be confined in the dragonpit and will involve only five caches. But just in case, if it goes awry, follow your uncles.”

Still troubled, Sansa reluctantly nodded her head, “And where are the rest of the wildfire? What do you hope to accomplish with Rossart and his men gone?”

Tywin snorted, “The rest of the wildfire are outside of the city, under my control. Those monstrosities don’t have a place here. As for the guild, one family will take leadership and they have already pledged their loyalty to me. Production and distribution of the wildfire will be under our control.”

Hearing that the rest of the wildfire caches have been removed from the city made Sansa breathe easier. The knowledge of wildfire being stored underneath the city had been a looming threat for a while now. She didn’t like it that the pyromancers will continue making them but knowing that they’ll be regulated and under Lannister control was enough good news for her. It’s not ideal but she had to admit it could be greatly beneficial in the future.

“And what about the king?”

“What about the king?” Tywin asked flatly, “The explosion will be dismissed as an accident. What can he do?”

“What if this pushes him to do something even more erratic? Like accuse someone of…of getting rid of his toys?”

“If he acts even more the lunatic he already is, then everyone will see he’s no longer fit to be king and hasten to crown Rhaegar”

“But Rhaegar isn’t exactly trustworthy either father. He may be acting sane right now but—I honestly wouldn’t put it past him to do something reckless and foolish”

“He won’t, if he knows what’s good for him. We have Dorne through Cersei and the Riverlands through Jaime and a connection with the North through Catelyn’s sister. Ned Stark was a ward of Jon Arryn’s. We also have Steffon in our corner. The only houses the Targaryens could count on fully for support are those of the Reach and the Crownlands. Crownlander lords are nothing but puppets that could be easily controlled and the Tyrells, for all their ambitions of power, are nothing but cowards”

“Father, the alliances you speak of are tenuous. The North and Dorne are notorious for keeping to themselves. The Vale, the Riverlands and the Stormlands have houses extremely loyal to the Targaryens. And if it is Rhaegar who wears the crown, do you think those currently against Aerys would go against him?”

Tywin merely huffed, “With your head and mine and the banners and gold of the Rock, will anyone be able to defeat us?”

 _No_ , Sansa thought in silence, _none shall defeat us, I'll make sure of that if push comes to shove. But winning a war is not my goal. Keeping the peace is._

***

Arthur 

For a few years now, Arthur has viewed Prince Rhaegar in a positive light.

Compared to his father the King Aerys Second of His Name, the prince was intelligent, strong, calm, collected and was charming to people. He thought he’d make a good king—a great king like Jaehaerys the Conciliator or perhaps Daeron the Good.

But now…

Seeing him work side by side with the Lady Sansa Lannister and having been given the chance to compare him to another person who’s clearly born with the talent for leadership as well, it has become clearer that his initial views were incorrect.

He is still strong. Still calm and collected but the charm and what he thought was genuine concern for people—playing his harp in the streets of Flea Bottom and giving away his coin as alms to the poor—they’re slowly being unveiled as nothing but attempts to build a good image and curry favor with the common folk.

It’s…disappointing to say the least.

Arthur’s thoughts and hopes of the prince becoming a great king is crumbling by the day. His eyes are also slowly being opened to Rhaegar’s faults. The prince, it’s obvious to see now, possessed… unwanted Targaryen traits.

Moon after moon of working with the Lady Lannister has seen the Prince first taking control and making himself front and center of the charities the little lady started herself, then slowly losing his enthusiasm and genuine care and now becoming apathetic and sometimes, even impatient.

 _The coin hasn’t landed yet,_ he realized.

Rhaegar is just another prince content to wait until the end of his mad father’s reign. He’s not going to act to put a stop to his cruelty for fear of losing his inheritance, especially with baby Viserys now existing. He might even play it safe, remain neutral and not interfere even if the realm was plunged into a war due to Aerys’ cruelty and incompetence.

When Rhaegar finally sits on the Iron Throne, if the Seven Kingdoms are lucky, they’ll get another Aerys I or Maekar or Aegon III. With the way things are, one of those three is most likely the kind of king Prince Rhaegar would turn out to be.

If not…It’s a terrible thing to think about.

***

Rhaegar 

Rhaegar sighed upon hearing the noisy children demand for more.

“A story. Tell us a story please Lady Sansa!” the girls' begging voices rang, hurting his ears and making his headache worse.

“No more tales of princesses. We want a scary story this time” the little boys demanded.

He almost interfered when the little Lady Lannister nodded her head in agreement.

“I’ll tell you another. It’s not a happy story though. Do you still want to hear it?” she asked the little children.

“Yes!” the little voices cried in celebration.

She glanced up and looked at him. Rhaegar sighed once more before nodding back.

A thoughtful look came upon her face before she started her tale, the cadence of her voice calm and soothing.

“Once there was a beloved rich lord of a great land who was married to a kind and beautiful woman from another rich family. They had two children, a pretty little girl and a baby boy. The wife loved the husband but the man did not return it. Theirs was an arranged marriage you see. He cared for her in some way maybe, but not love. One day, a witch told him this: You are destined for so much more my lord. Everything that you have now, they are nothing compared to what the future holds.”

“Strange. I don’t think I've heard this one before” Rhaegar commented, intrigued with the story upon hearing it involved a prophecy.

There’s not much story he encountered involving oracles and as far as he’s aware, the young lady did not like prophecies. She said so herself during their first accidental meeting in the godswood of Highgarden. He’s surprised to hear her telling a story involving it now.

“Neither have I” Arthur, who was seated a little ways behind him seconded.

“I, too have not heard of this one my lady” Oswell piped up from his place near the wall.

“I expect not. I made it myself Your Highness, sers” she answered.

“Interesting. Do go on my lady” Rhaegar said, intrigued and eager to hear more.

She nodded before turning her attention to the wide-eyed children and continued her tale, “The lord asked the witch, What must I do? You must be prepared to sacrifice what you already have in the present for a more glorious future, the witch said, and you will know the right time has come when you see the woman meant for you all along.”

Lady Maege, the female warrior from Bear Island laughed loudly, “A witch! Really? Who would believe in such an idiotic prophecy?”

Ser Oswell laughed with her, “You wouldn’t believe how gullible many people are in the face of prophecies and witchcraft. I should know my lady, House Whent after all holds Harrenhal and I grew up with its many tales of witches and such things”

Rhaegar clenched his hands on his pants at the words then shifted to look behind him when he heard Arthur chuckled in amusement. The knight only quirked a brow at him in question. He shook his head before returning his attention to the story teller.

“A few years passed but the words of the witch remained with the rich lord. He kept it close to his heart. Then one day, they attended a tourney. The lord was a warrior and participated in the jousting. In one of his fights, he saw a beautiful maiden in the stands and knew right away she was the one, just like the witch said years past. He knew it in his heart and soul. The lord was a very good jouster you see, and he did his best, trounced all his competitors and claimed victory. When he received the crown of roses, the people thought he’d give it to his wife who loved him and bore his children. He did not. He rode his horse past her and gave it to the beautiful maiden. People will remember it for centuries as the day all the smiles disappeared.”

“Well, that sounds like something only either a truly dishonorable lout or a madman would do” Arthur commented, “To humiliate one’s own lady wife in front of a crowd…that’s just…I don’t know how to even describe it”

Little Bryn, an obnoxious and very opinionated boy of six huffed and declared for all to hear, “Well it’s called being stupid. He was stupid. Who believes in witches and their words anyway? They’re creatures of evil. The septas say so. They‘re probably only telling lies to hurt other people all the time”

“I’m very interested now in how this story ends. I hope the lord’s co—ehem, precious bits get cut off,” Lady Maege stated with a savage grin to her face that Rhaegar found disturbing.

Jon, who joined Rhaegar on one of the benches, scoffed “Such uncouth manners. The story may be fresh and interesting. But is it really appropriate for young children? Isn’t this going to ruin their innocence, my lady?”

Septa Prunella, the primary caretaker of the orphanage expressed her agreement but clearly did not want to offend the young lady responsible for the generous amounts of gold the Lannisters funneled to the institution’s treasury.

Lady Lannister raised her chin and with serious blue and green eyes, answered Jon and the septa, “I am not taking away their innocence brave ser, dear septa. I am stripping them of their ignorance and gullibility. These children are orphans. They have no parents to guide them and soon, when they reach ten and four, they’ll have to go out there and survive on their own. But how can they make the right choices if from the start they are only told and made to believe pretty lies instead of harsh truths?”

“I agree,” Lady Maege said, “stories of knights and their chivalry are overrated and tales of ladies being damsels in distress are boring. Let the children hear something tragic but realistic at least”

An awkward silence reigned before Arthur spoke gently, “I would have to agree with Lady Sansa and Lady Maege. Hard truths are indeed much better than sweet lies”

Jon scowled but kept quiet.

“What happened next Lady Sansa? What happened?” the children who remained silent during the exchange now urged.

“The maiden was betrothed to another lord. The rich lord didn’t care though. He only thought of what he felt and of the glorious future the witch promised was waiting for him. He left his wife and little children and convinced the beautiful maiden to marry him instead. They ran away with the help of some loyal friends of the lord. Some of them also friends of his first wife”

“Some friends they are” Lady Maege quipped mockingly.

Lady Sansa shrugged, “That’s why one should be careful when selecting their friends.”

“And what happened next?” Rhaegar asked, impatient to move on.

Boom!

A sudden, loud explosion was heard and it lightly rocked the foundation of the building.

For a moment there was silence and then, mayhem.

Lady Sansa, surprisingly, was fast enough to stand at the same time with Rhaegar and Arthur, then the rest all stood up as well and unsheathed their swords.

“My prince, stay here. Stay inside the building” Arthur urgently advised upon standing by his side then he ordered, “Someone go outside and see what’s happening!” 

“What in the seven hells was that?! Is there an attack?!” Lady Maege shouted.

“Secure all entrances!” Ser Tygett and Ser Oswell shouted at the same time.

The children all began to panic and make terrible and pitiful noises in fear while the rest of Lady Sansa’s red guards hurried to secure all entrances including the windows.

The other two Bear Islander women Larra and Raya flanked the Lady Sansa who was looking shaken yet struggled to be calm.

“Children please remain on your seats. We’re here to help you all so don’t worry. Someone please see what’s happening! Uncle Tyg! Uncle Gerion!” Lady Sansa’s pale face and wide eyes turned to her uncles.

From outside, they heard distant screams and shouts and not too long they heard the bells of the city ringing.

Ser Tygett had a dark, fierce look on his face, “My Prince, niece, stay inside where it’s safe. I’ll go out with other guards to have a look at what’s going on. Ser Arthur, Maege, Gerion, bar the doors behind me to ensure all your safety. Don’t open it to anyone else but me”

Rhaegar nodded calmly then turned to the other kingsguard, “Oswell please go with Ser Tygett to see what’s going on and report back to us”

Oswell nodded with a grim face then he and Ser Tygett, along with three other Lannister guards walked out the door. Arthur and Lady Maege barred it after their exit and remained standing there.

“Children, calm down! Calm down please! We’re all here. The Prince Rhaegar, Ser Arthur, Ser Jon and my Uncle Gerion and our guards are here. We’ll help keep you safe. Sit down and let’s be quiet. Why don’t we sing while we wait for Ser Oswell and my uncle to come back hm?” Lady Sansa spoke in a loud voice, trying to calm the frightened young ones.

“Yes. Yes. Why don’t we sing the Song of the Mother?” Septa Prunella asked, though her face laid bare her fright too.

Two other septas, Mirabelle and Eleana, who also assisted in managing the orphanage, joined the Bear Islander women in calming the distraught children, taking some of them in their arms.

Even Lady Sansa bent down and picked up a small crying girl not more than three and patted her on the back, “Yes the Septa is right. Let us sing. Gentle Mother, font of mercy…”

The children mercifully calmed down and started singing despite their faces still showing fear.

Rhaegar went to one of the windows and stood opposite an alert Lannister guard, trying to listen and make sense of the noises from outside but it was in vain. The orphanage was built in a minor alley and most of the chaos seem to be in the major streets.

“What do you think it was my prince?” Jon, who followed him, asked.

“I don’t know. It could be anything…“ Rhaegar trailed off.

It’s not true. An explosion like that could only be caused by a few things. And he’s sure his mad father’s recently discovered favorite toy is high on the list.

Rhaegar clenched his jaws in fury. _If the mad fool indeed used it and burnt the Red Keep to the ground—if he laid to waste my inheritance, then he better be dead or I will kill him myself with my own bare hands!_

After several minutes more of tense waiting, successive hard knocks on the door jolted all of them.

“My Prince! Arthur! It’s us” Oswell’s voice rang on the other side and Lady Maege and another Lannister guard quickly opened it.

“Wildfire!” was Oswell’s first words upon seeing him and it made Rhaegar see red. The mad cripple has really done it now! The fucking fool.

“It doesn’t seem to be that bad your highness,” Ser Tygett hurriedly assured, “It looked to only be near the dragonpit”

“Yes. Yes, Ser Tygett tells it true. The column of smoke is only on that part of the city. There doesn’t seem to be any other location damaged” Oswell added.

“Then we must go back to the Red Keep” Rhaegar decided.

Ser Tygett shook his head, “I wouldn’t recommend it right now your highness. It’s madness out there. The streets are filled with people and we don’t know yet the gravity of the situation. I sent the red guards with us to find out more of what’s exactly happening and to return to tell us when it’s safe to go back to the keep. I also ordered them to get more men to serve as our guards.”

“I agree with Ser Tygett my prince” Oswell added his own agreement. “The streets aren’t safe right now and we don’t know for sure the fire won’t spread. Let’s wait for word of safety for now”

“Yes. Let’s wait for word my prince” Arthur said in a grave voice, “Your safety is paramount. Who knows if this is really an accident or merely a diversion or a ploy to hurt the royal family or other important people in the capital?”

Rhaegar finally nodded in acquiescence then went to sit down on a bench not occupied by the children who were crowded around Septa Prunella and Lady Sansa.

 _This wildfire incident_ , he thought with slowly increasing pleasure, _now that I think more, it can only be beneficial for me. There’s no doubt people will attach it to Aerys' madness. If there are many casualties, the better. It‘ll make the mad king more hated and dangerous in the eyes of the nobles and the lowborn people. Yes, this can only be good. Let father dig his own grave and make the people see that I will make a better king than he then perhaps I'll soon be seated on the Iron Throne._


	37. Sansa/Rickard/Oberyn

Sansa

The pyromancers who worked with her father have underestimated the effects of the five caches being ignited.

Yes they were successful in meeting all the objectives of the explosion: Rossart and his people were dead, the family of Wisdoms Pollitor and Alyn now have control over the guild and House Lannister now secretly holds the strings of the Guildhall.

They also had been right in their calculations of the wildfire being easy to contain within the dragonpit. But they had not anticipated one thing: the huge chunks of stones that were hurled in the air after the initial blast.

Although none except for the pyromancers have died through wildfire, quite a few did lose their lives because of the rocks that rained down from the sky.

And what terrible, grisly deaths they were.

Nine died with different parts of their bodies crushed by the stones. Some had parts of their skulls cracked open like eggs and others with gaping holes in their chests. Eleven were suffering with different limbs torn off—mostly arms and legs. Many more have suffered minor injuries. She didn’t see any of them but she heard the horrible reports well enough.

It seems there’s always a blowback to every plan or scheme. How many more lives needed to be sacrificed for the sake of peace? Wasn’t this time travel horseshit or being reborn crap supposed to make things easier? Why is there always a negative result? Could it be a Stark curse or a Lannister curse? Perhaps a combination of the two? Those people. Even if she didn’t kill them herself—she was aware the explosion was going to happen and now she’ll have to carry some of their blood in her hands.

***

“I heard a rumor saying Aerys has refused to get out of Maegor’s Holdfast, believing someone is out to eliminate him” her uncle Gerion reported with a satisfied smirk on his face.

Tygett huffed and spoke sarcastically, “Well…he’s not exactly wrong in that assumption. A dragon forced to stay in a cage because of a lion. Hah! You must be very proud of yourself right now brother”

Tywin's face remained impassive throughout the exchange, “If he had been less of a jealous fool and not a lunatic, I’d have been content to play the loyal servant. But he insisted we play this game. Fool him, I have no intentions of losing”

Gerion grinned, “Indeed. I suppose this requires a toast?”

“King Aerys may have been pushed into a cage but let’s not go celebrating yet Uncle. I read somewhere that the end of a hunt with a predator forced to a corner is the most dangerous. A beast with nothing left to lose will do everything, even kill itself in the process, for a chance to survive” Sansa cautioned.

The wildfire caches may be gone but so long as Aerys wears the crown and holds the title of King, he has power still. And power is dangerous, it will always attract the worst—all those who are hungry and willing to do anything for it. And the power of the Iron Throne, she knows very well, is the most attractive of all.

“That is true” Tywin agreed then looked at Gerion then Tygett, “A good hunter knows the hunt isn’t over until the prey lies dead on the ground. You two would do well to remember this”

***

Rickard

“Troubling news from the South” Rickard spoke gravely, “Maege reported there was a wildfire explosion in the dragonpit that killed several pyromancers and others unfortunate enough to have been rained down upon by rocks that got blasted”

“My man has written to me as well. King Aerys really has descended to the deepest pits of madness. To allow wildfire in the capital” Wyman shook his head, a concerned look on his face, “Is young Lord Benjen still to foster with House Baratheon?”

“No. I have decided against the idea of sending him south. He’ll foster with the Umbers instead.”

Wyman smirked, “And I suppose he’ll be arranged with a Karstark?”

Rickard’s lips quirked up and he nodded once in answer.

Wyman’s smirk widened and turned into a snigger, “The flayed man and the northern Dothraki horde sought to surround Winterfell but now they find themselves surrounded instead. Crafty my lord. Well done. Well done”

“It is indeed a good move my lord. Best to consolidate Stark rule first. Southern matches can later be made with Lord Ned’s daughters if necessary. With a father as future Warden of the North and a lady mother who’s a daughter of the Lord Paramount of the Trident, many high lords will be scrambling for their hands in marriage. It’s a better plan than marrying your current heirs south” old Lord Willem Dustin spoke up in agreement, an approving look on his face.

“Aye. That’s exactly what I thought of and decided to do. But we must speak about the concerns south” Rickard said with a voice that made the two men sit up straight on their chairs. 

Lord Willem frowned, “You think there might be war?”

“With the Targaryens, anything is possible. Consider this time as the calm before the storm. House Manderly and House Dustin are the ones closest to the Neck and with the largest forces that can be mustered in the shortest amount of time. Don’t do anything overt but I advise you now Wyman, Lord Willem, we must at least make some preparation”

Wyman’s eyes glinted and he leaned closer, “Might I suggest something my lord?”

“Aye. What is it?”

“A fleet. Now is the time to slowly build the North’s naval forces, wouldn’t you agree? They would be very helpful not just in engaging in sea warfare but also in transporting the northern armies at a faster rate. In times of peace, they can also be used in transporting goods and merchandise, especially now that trade with the West is increasing”

Rickard considered the proposal and sighed heavily, “It’s a good proposal. But a fleet…a fleet would be very costly for the North”

Wyman flashed him a cunning smile, “No more costly than you think Lord Stark. We have most of the necessary materials already and White Harbor has enough manpower, this I know. I only ask for help in terms of wages and some of the other materials”

“How many ships are we talking about my lord? And exactly how much gold?” Rickard probed, wanting to know more first before agreeing to anything.

“Ten new dromons and two barges would be a good start. With your permission, we can get half the timber needed from the wolfswood and the other half, House Manderly shall cover. With that said, we only really need gold for the wages and other materials such as bronze for the rams. A good estimate is thirty thousand gold dragons”

Rickard balked at the amount. _Thirty thousand gold dragons! And for wages and miscellaneous materials alone!_

Perhaps sensing his reluctance, the old Lord Willem of the Barrowlands spoke up, “I propose an alliance in this naval endeavor—a three-way partnership between Winterfell, White Harbor and Barrowton, if you will. I offer to split the cost into three”

Rickard drummed his fingers on the surface of his solar desk then made a decision, “My lords, this is a great idea and your offers are greatly appreciated indeed. But this is concerning a fleet for the entire North and as such, must be brought before the northern lords first—the next harvest feast would be the best time. I do not want the construction of this fleet to be the cause of unnecessary suspicions and spark conflicts. That is the last thing we want and need at this time. And as you said Lord Wyman, ten war galleys are but a start. Mayhap we can find more support from others so more can be built before we fully engage in this project. If none will give us gold or any kind of support, then we’ll proceed with your proposal Wyman.”

***

Oberyn 

“Breakwind? Really Mother, you can’t find anyone else better for Elia so you’re consigning her to a marriage with Breakwind?” Oberyn asked, still feeling incredulous at the news he’s just heard.

“Oberyn! When will you stop that ridiculous name-calling? You’re a Prince of Dorne and yet you act like a spoiled little beast. For Seven’s sakes, act with more dignity!” his Mother snapped at him.

“But… surely there are other, far better matches?”

“Give me a name of a better match then! It better be someone wealthier than a Hightower and owns a city greater than Oldtown” Her black eyes were like hard beads and they bored through him, making his tongue feel clumsy.

“Can’t think of anyone hm? This is the problem with you Oberyn, you don’t use your head. Instead, you always open your mouth and speak with your sharp tongue and act rashly like a heathen, causing offense to everyone around you. Baelor Hightower will someday be Lord of the Hightower and will preside over Oldtown, the second largest city where the Citadel is also located. The Hightowers have the Bank of Oldtown too, the only bank in Westeros. And by all accounts, Baelor is a good and decent man. What exactly is it you’re objecting? Because he farted at the dinner table? Is that really what you consider a great offense? Greater than you fucking anyone you want?”

“I just want what is best for Elia mother” he answered, realizing too late he used a belligerent tone.

“And you think I don’t? Between the two of us—I who use my brain and you who rarely does—can you really, honestly say to my face you’re only thinking of and looking after Elia’s best interests?”

Chastised by the truth in his Mother’s words, Oberyn kept quiet.

“I’m sure you’ve also heard about what’s happened in the capital? How King Aerys has gotten even more mad and now involving the use of wildfire? The Hightowers will be powerful allies in case of future trouble Obie. And this way we can also ensure your sister’s safety. It will actually make it easier for us to visit her or for her to come home to Dorne anytime she wants, what with the short distance between Oldtown and Sunspear. You understand why this match is important don’t you?”

“Yes Mother”

“Good. Now stop this ridiculous fussing over nothing. Elia will be fine. She’s approved of the match and knows she’ll be in good hands. You on the other hand—you should pay more attention to your betrothed. I received reports lately you haven’t been paying attention to Cersei, almost ignoring her. What is the problem hm?”

Oberyn took a deep breath then started his long list of complaints, “That girl is the problem. Gods! She’s an insufferable, obnoxious chit. She looks down upon us all as though we're nothing but barbarians, no respect at all for our titles and our rich history. She thinks being a Lannister makes her better than everyone else. Why didn’t you betroth me instead to the younger sister? Lady Sansa had wits and was very charming and polite. Even the brother would’ve been better. This girl we have in our home—eating our food, breathing our air—is nothing but a spiteful, little bitch”

“Oberyn!” She exclaimed again, though he saw a smile threatening to appear on her lips

“But it’s true mother!”

“First off Obie, Jaime Lannister is off limits. Do you want Tywin Lannister to bury you alive in one of his mining pits somewhere in that behemoth of a Rock? Or perhaps feed you to his rumored pet lions? Don’t be an idiot. Second, the Lady Sansa is now betrothed to Prince Rhaegar, that ship has sailed. Lastly, Cersei Lannister is a stranger here in our lands. Of course she’ll need some period of adjustment and she’ll never adjust if you don’t exercise patience and tolerance with her. Give it time. Show her that her beliefs of our land are nothing but misconceptions. Grant her more understanding. Don’t be a jerk. Try to court her. Walk her in the gardens or invite her to visit the orchards. Show her the beautiful parts of Dorne. Don’t leave her alone to just stand by her window and stare at the miles and miles of sand for hours on end while drinking wine. That girl is far too young to be a drunk”

Oberyn sighed heavily and unhappily, “Fine. Fine. I’ll try again. But if she continues to be the way she is, you can marry us for alliance but don’t expect me to stay here and spend all of my time catering to her whims. I’m far too young and handsome to be tied to someone miserable. And the world is far too beautiful a place. I want to explore it. I’ll go even if I have to leave her behind. Then she can continue watching the sands and drink some more wine in peace”


	38. Sansa/Rickard/Rhaegar

Sansa

“I demanded the idiot to go back to Storm’s End and start learning how to manage the Stormlands under Cassana and what does he do? Fuck two Florents, that’s what! And not just any Florent but the youngest daughter and the cousin of that ambitious prick Alester Florent! It’s most likely true that Stark broke the betrothal after he sniffed Robert’s stinky mess in the Eyrie. Ned Stark probably got words of warning from some friends in the Vale. And now, he couldn’t marry a she wolf so he went and fucked foxes instead. All future Baratheons will probably inherit those ugly, big ass ears” Lord Steffon seethed while vigorously cutting his meat as though attacking an enemy. He was probably imagining cutting his idiot son’s cock.

Not six moons ago, the Lord Hand was severely disappointed and even angry at Lord Rickard for breaking the betrothal between Robert and Lyanna but only two moons after that, news that his heir had fathered several bastards in the Vale broke out.

For weeks, Robert and his wild indiscretions had been the talk amongst several circles and people who new about the broken Stark betrothal made speculations that Robert's conquests were probably the reason for Lord Stark’s sudden turnabout.

Sansa was sure it wasn’t the case. Tywin’s spy in the North had reported Lord Stark inviting the Mormonts to Winterfell before the betrothal was even broken. She speculated the reason probably had something to do with Lyanna’s refusal to submit to an arranged marriage with Robert.

And now here comes this news of Robert Baratheon being stupid once more and taking the maidenheads of not just one but two highborn women. Any other peasant girl and he could’ve gotten away scot-free. But not from the Florents.

House Florent is a very proud noble house tracing their lineage from Garth Greenhand by his daughter Florys the Fox. Even now 278 years after the conquest, they still boast and gripe to anyone who would listen how they have a superior claim than the Tyrells to Highgarden and consequently, rule over the Reach, by their close blood ties to House Gardener. And Robert has gone and messed with two of them.

In the other life, it was known Robert had disrespected Stannis' wedding bed by deflowering Lady Delena, Lord Alester’s niece. Here, now, Robert bedded Lord Florent’s distant cousin and was also found in bed with his youngest daughter while attending the wedding of Lord Randyll Tarly and Lady Melessa Florent, the elder daughter.

It’s funny how some things echoed previous events but Sansa knew laughing would’ve offended the raging Storm Lord so she bit her lips to restrain herself. Rhaegar, who sat opposite her, saw though and she saw his lips curled up before becoming impassive once more. She looked away barely hiding a grimace. That didn’t just happen.

“The Florents will surely threaten harsh reprisal if your son is not made to take responsibility for his actions. And now that his eldest daughter is married to Randyll Tarly… “ Gerion spoke then trailed off.

The implication was clear to everyone. The Florents and the Tarlys were among the prominent houses of the Reach. Together they’re strong enough to put a little pressure on the Baratheons.

“Aye. There’s no escaping it. That fox Alester shall hound me to my grave if nothing is done about it. Robert will wed Rhea Florent” the Lord Baratheon grouched.

“And when will cousin Robert wed, Lord Hand?” Rhaegar asked.

“In three moons. If the girl is already with child, her stomach should be fairly small still by then. There will be a small tourney in Storm’s End. All of you are invited by the way, if you could find it an honor still to attend this scandal-ridden, travesty of a wedding.”

Sansa expressed her interest to accept the invitation, “I haven’t been to the Stormlands yet and I would like to see Storm’s End. I read that Bran the Builder who built the Wall also helped in the construction of that legendary castle of yours, my lord. I should like to visit it, if at least once in my lifetime”

Lord Steffon’s ire melted away and he gave her a friendly smile, “We’d be very pleased to host you my lady. I’ll tell my lady wife to ensure you get the best tour of the castle”

***

They were lying in her large canopied bed, Lysarra and Maege on opposite sides of her. Larra and Raya slept in two separate smaller but comfortable beds that also served as chaise lounges during daytime.

“Arra, Maege, have you two laid with men already?”

There was silence for a while then Lysarra broke into giggles while Maege laughed aloud.

“Now, what’s entered your pretty little head that you’re asking us such an intimate question?” Maege asked in a teasing tone.

“The talk earlier—it made me realize I actually have a very short time left. I’m one and ten now and soon, two and ten. The agreement the King set is for Prince Rhaegar and I to marry when I start bleeding. I might only have two years left. Mayhap one, if the gods chose to be cruel like they normally do.”

She knows it’s going to happen and likely within two years. Already there were small changes occurring in her body. Her height has shot up and it seems with the Lannister blood, she’ll even be taller than she was before. Her head now reaches her father’s chest. She’s also feeling a small bump forming in her teats. Soon, the rest will follow.

“Are you asking for lessons how to seduce the Prince, my lady?” Lysarra asked with some amusement.

Sansa scrunched her nose at the thought of seducing Rhaegar in bed but knew it was necessary, “Yes but not only to seduce him, I also want to know how to make the experience better for me. I honestly don’t think the Prince is the kind of man who’ll care about my pleasure, so I must look after it on my own. I’ll be working hard and suffering enough as it is bearing him children. I might even lose my life delivering his heirs into the world! I think I deserve to get myself some pleasure out of it”

“That is true, clever girl. Just because he’s a handsome, gallant prince, it doesn’t guarantee he’ll be a generous lover” Lysarra agreed with a giggle.

Maege laughed once more, “Oh I totally agree with you. Most men are shit for lovers. Most of them just focus in their own enjoyment then sit back and let the women suffer while carrying their babes. Some are even shameless enough to bed whores while their wives are heavy with child. If something goes wrong they blame us women. If we cannot give them children, they can discard us. I say hell yes to getting pleasure out of it for yourself!”

“So will you teach me? I heard septas say it's the women’s duty to serve and obey their husband—to let them do what they want in the marriage bed. But that sounds terribly unfair. It only benefits the men, not the women”

Lysarra huffed, her disdain clear in her voice when she spoke next, “Why anyone would take a shriveled up, old septa’s bedding advice as sufficient lesson, I will never understand. Most of those old bats probably joined the faith because they were either too afraid of having their skin touched by men or were too ugly and couldn’t attract men to bed them”

“Hear, hear. Noble girls should not be taught by those old prunes. Their teachings are based on a warped view of the world where women are nothing but dutiful broodmare for their husbands. They only serve to worsen women's suffering. In Bear Island, we have no septas. Women can pursue their own desires even when it comes to bedding men. Some even freely use the excuse of bedding with bears when they get pregnant with bastard children and none would bat their eyes” Maege added with a grin.

“I’ll teach you. I’ll even include some of the lessons I learned in Lyseni pillow houses when I still helped my mother make concoctions and remedies for the pleasure workers,” Lysarra said with a wicked smile.

Maege sat up and looked at Lysarra with interested and appreciative eyes, “Lyseni tricks eh? Ohhh this should be good. I’ll be happy to contribute the strong, independent women of Bear Island’s techniques if you’ll teach me too”

The two women then went on to laugh like a pair wicked witches and Sansa shivered, feeling as though she’s just gone and unleashed something terrifying.

***

Rickard

Rickard watched with great satisfaction as the first two war galleys built were moved down the slipway.

Lords Wyman Manderly, Willem Dustin, Rickard Karstark and Greatjon Umber as well as Masters Helman Tallhart and Galbart Glover stood in line on the docks with him, observing the same scene.

Looking back, he is thankful he had not been rash in making a decision when Wyman made the proposal.   
Presenting the idea of rebuilding the northern fleet to his lords had been one of the best ideas so far. Not only did the lords express satisfaction at his dedication to northern security and economy, most of them had also thrown their support making it possible to raise enough gold to build fifteen war galleys and five barges.

“They are beautiful things, and they look strong too” Galbart gave his praise.

“That they are” Wyman proudly agreed, “The accurate term for these war galleys, my lords, is dromon. They’re similar to the ships in the Volantene fleet. They’re swift runners in the sea. Thirty-two meters with twenty-five oars each side, three to five men each oar. The more men sitting on the bench, the faster it’ll be, of course. And the design of the sail is something new from the pirate ships between the Ar Noy and the Sorrows. It’s a combination of a square rig and one called lateen. The square rig is good for catching a following wind well but hard to set when it is heading into it. That is when the lateen steps in. It can be better controlled and makes navigation easier as it allows the ship to tack and beat into the wind far better than square rigs do. ”

“What else can they do?” Lord Karstark asked.

Wyman quickly extolled the virtues of the ship. “The ram is a thick bronze casting with horizontal blades and weigh a ton. It’s a good tool to ram and destroy the enemy’s ship. The wooden castles on either sides of the mast will serve as elevated platforms from where archers can shoot.”

“Won’t that ram jeopardize the entire ship if it got stuck?” Greatjon Umber asked with a frown.

Wyman only grinned, “It won’t. We considered that problem and solved it already. The ram is not attached directly to the hull, only to a structure extending from it. It can be twisted off if it got stuck without damaging any part of the ship. It can even be replaced.”

“How would it fare against an Ironborn ship?” Master Tallhart asked. It was a legitimate question considering Torrhen’s Square lies in the western coast and some areas near it have been raided by Ironborn in centuries.

“I’d say the Ironborn are still slightly superior in speed. Our ships, after all, are bigger and intended for not just sea warfare but transportation of men and goods. But outfitted properly and captained by someone with clever wits, in a fight, there’s a chance it will win. And will have higher chances still when faced against other Westerosi ships of similar size.”

“That is good to know” Lord Willem said looking pleased, “And the rest, how long will it take for them to all be built?”

“In a year, all fifteen galleys and five barges would be ready for sailing” Wyman declared proudly.

All the lords nodded and looked on approvingly.

When the ships were finally in the water, Wyman stepped forward and turned to them, “My lords, tis a fine day to sail. How would you like to test the galleys yourselves?”

***

Rhaegar 

Rhaegar looked and silently scrutinized the people around him and felt irritated to find out that it was only he who seemed to be feeling miserable. Even the ladies looked to be content despite the exhaustion clear on their faces.

They’ve been traveling for eight and ten days now and the conditions had been truly exasperating. They’d had to stop for two days in the Kingswood due to a sudden downpour. Then they had to travel for more than a sennight along a muddy kingsroad. Thank the gods his betrothed did not insist on bringing a wheelhouse. That would’ve no doubt caused them hellish delays. Just another day and their damned journey will finally end.

Looking around some more, he shook his head when he saw the three ladies from Bear Island and Lady Sansa looking enthusiastic while watching the vague outline of the Baratheon castle in the distance.

“Storm’s End. One of the strongest castles in the realm. It’s never fallen to a siege or a storm. It’s true what they said. It does look like a fist raised in defiance against the gods”

Ser Gerion laughed, “That’s the polite way of saying it niece. Knowing the Durrandons and now, the Baratheons, I’d say it’s more like a middle finger pointing up saying fuck you to everyone else”

The men around the early afternoon campfire laughed at the Lannister knight's words.

Lady Sansa only looked at her uncle with a reprimanding stare and sighed then returned her attention to the castle “I read somewhere that it was warded by magic of the children of the forest during its construction. That a young Bran the Builder advised Durran Godsgrief in raising it.”

“Well, if it’s indeed built with the help of Bran the Builder, it’s no wonder it’s still standing. The northern Wall still stands after all” Lady Maege grinned, proud of her family’s association with the Stark King no doubt.

“I wonder how big their library is and what books they have there. With the castle reputedly built during the Dawn Age, surely they’d have an impressive collection.”

“Surely you didn’t come all this way to read some more my lady” Lady Maege teased.

There was laughter around him once more but Rhaegar’s attention was no longer with them. He had stilled upon hearing the young lady's words.

_Why didn’t I think of that before?_

His exchanges with his Great-uncle Aemon had been frustrating as they had yielded nothing as of late. The two of them could not find other supporting texts that could help them better understand the prophecy.

The Lady Sansa was right. Castles built during or shortly after the Age of Heroes may be able to help, especially ones with libraries.

_Surely the Baratheons inherited from the Durrandons a vast collection of tomes and other written accounts from centuries and millennia past. Perhaps I’d even find some books there about prophecies, something that could help me better understand the prophecy of The Prince That Was Promised and about dragons. I’ll have to visit and explore that library myself._

If not, there are others he could visit and explore. The Hightower. Casterly Rock. Winterfell. 


	39. Sansa/Rhaegar/Cersei

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Year 278 AC  
> Tyrion 5-6  
> Sansa 11-12  
> Lysa 12-13  
> Jaime 13-14  
> Cersei 13-14  
> Lyanna 13-14  
> Cat 15-16  
> Ashara 15-16  
> Ned 16-17  
> Stannis 16-17  
> Bobby B 17-18  
> Rhaegar 20-21

Sansa

Storm’s End was indeed an impressive castle but it’s clear it followed necessity over style approach. Other than its defensive capabilities, there’s nothing much else to say.

Compared to Casterly Rock, Winterfell, Highgarden, Riverrun, the Eyrie and the Red Keep, it was boring to say the least. The granary, the barracks, the armory, the great hall for feasting, the sleeping chambers, the maester’s rooms and the rookery—all of them were inside the colossal drum tower.

They arrived more than a sennight early so there weren’t that many guests present yet. Most who have already arrived were Stormlanders and men from Brightwater Keep who did nothing but train in the yard or pander to the Crown Prince and Hand of the King by day and drink or sample the taverns and sighing houses in the nearby town at night. There was nothing much to do yet.

The only interesting things she found were the small, quiet, godswood where there stood a heart tree with a solemn face (she didn’t know Storm’s End had a heart tree), the library with its huge, old and dusty tomes and the walls. The walls that, when she pressed her hands to, felt similar to the walls of Winterfell—faintly warm and humming and alive like there’s blood flowing through it. It was…surprisingly strange to say the least.

She wondered if it had something to do with the protection spells rumored to have been placed by the children of the forest. Then she wondered if the warging powers, a renowned gift from the old gods, made it possible for her to feel the wards placed. 

When she asked for access to the library, Lord Steffon gladly gave her permission with a laugh, “Hells, few have given those books proper attention—only the old maesters and now Stannis, who’s as boring as a maester himself. You can certainly have a look at them my lady, you may even take those that you find interesting, just let me know. Baratheons are no bookworms. Better they find their place with someone who’ll pay them mind instead of wasting away in that dusty old room”

So off she went to explore, to see if there were books about the Long Night and White Walkers that could provide more clues how to fight them aside from using fire, dragon glass and Valyrian Steel.

The library was alright. It was not as big as the one in Casterly Rock nor what she could recall of Winterfell’s, but it was not too small either. The walls were lined with shelves and there were also freestanding bookshelves filled to the brim with aging tomes. There were even written accounts on wood blocks! Though they didn’t have much worth anymore as the ink used have already either discolored or faded with time.

The scrolls too were clearly several centuries old already. When she tried to unroll a few of the really ancient-looking ones, the surface of the parchments were severely desiccated and flaked and some parts have even fallen off. She became more careful after that, fearing she’d make more damage.

***

“Hmm… _True History._ What is this? _Watchers on the Wall_? _Hardhome_? Very… unique topics to be reading about. Are you planning a vacation or mayhap a secret incursion to the lands of always winter niece? ” Gerion asked with a teasing look in his face.

“Of course not uncle. I’d rather not be carried off by some wildling to lands cold and unknown or be captured and strung up and made their meal. I just find them really interesting. So many tales about events in the castles at the Wall and intriguing stories from the people beyond it.”

Maege laughed, “I really don’t understand you sometimes my lady. You’re probably the only southern lady I'll ever meet who’s interested in reading about the boring watchers on the wall and the savage wildlings from beyond”

Sansa shrugged, “It’s the history that I find fascinating”

Ser Arthur picked up _Hardhome: An Account of Three Years Beyond-the-Wall Among Savages, Raiders and Wood-Witches_. It was a book written by a Maester named Wyllis. He carefully flipped open its aging pages and read for a while before looking up. “I didn’t know there’s a wildling town beyond the wall” he said in surprise.

“That was six hundred years ago. But something terrible happened. It’s nothing but ruins now” Sansa replied.

“Oh? Was it because of a war with the North and House Stark?”

Sansa shook her head, “No it wasn’t due to a war with the North. It’s not really properly explained how. It was abrupt, from what I know. Something terrible happened one night. From accounts by the watchers on the wall, it looked like a great fire occurred, so great they thought the sun was rising from the North. According to traders who ventured up there, all that remained was a landscape of charred trees and burned bones, waters choked with swollen corpses, and shrieks echoing from the cave mouths.”

“That’s…really disturbing.”

“Doesn’t it sound similar to the Doom?” Maege asked.

“It does. Some say it was due to some magic gone wrong. Some say the children of the forest did something to stop the wildlings from starting a settlement and spreading their territory beyond the wall. Some say the Valyrians were looking for the escaped slaves who founded Braavos and destroyed Hardhome thinking it was Braavos”

Gerion leaned forward, face one of intrigue, “I read this story long ago too. I personally believe the Valyrian story more. They say the wildlings living there were carried off to slavery across the Narrow Sea”

“That’s not really certain though” Maege argued, “I heard a different story. I heard they were slaughtered for meat by cannibals from Skagos. None can really tell what truly happened but what everyone can agree on beyond the wall is that it’s now a haunted place. Whatever happened to those fuckers, it’s a benefit for us northerners. Just imagine what could’ve happened if they had been successful in creating that town. There’d be unending wars up north”

“That’s true my lady. Unfortunate for them but a fortunate event for us” Gerion agreed.

Sansa kept quiet, knowing it wasn’t the right time to speak up for the free folk yet.

“There are so many grim tales and haunted places up North it seems” Arthur said, “Lewyn wrote in his letters about stories he heard from older Black Brothers, especially about one Night castle. They’re pretty dark and disturbing”

“Nightfort” Sansa and Maege said at the same time.

“Yes, that’s the castle” Ser Arthur nodded, “Lewyn said people up there believe it’s cursed too”

It was that moment when Rhaegar arrived from his lengthy perusal of the shelves with some old books he placed on the table before taking a seat, “What’s this about castles and curses?”

“Oh were talking about the Nightfort your highness, one castle at the Wall notorious for its grisly tales” Gerion answered.

“I’ve may have heard and read a few things about that castle but nothing about curses. Why is it cursed?”

“It’s believed it is cursed because of the many crimes committed in that castle” Sansa answered.

An intrigued look appeared on Rhaegar’s face, “And those are?”

“There was a young girl named Danny Flint who was raped and murdered there. A man known as Mad Axe butchered his Black Brothers in the dark. There’s the story of the Rat Cook who broke Guest Rights and served an Andal King believed to be a Lannister or an Arryn his murdered son baked in a bacon pie. Seventy-nine deserters were buried alive in holes cut into the Wall as punishment and for them to keep their vows for eternity. There are many more grim tales but the most horrendous was that of the 13th Lord Commander of the Watch who laid with an Other woman and became the Night's King. He made the Nightfort his castle and committed all sorts of evil practices such as sacrificing people to the Others.”

Maege smiled at Sansa, an impressed look in her eyes, “You know many northern stories well.”

Prince Rhaegar and Arthur Dayne both smiled, but theirs was more of amusement.

“Were there tales of grumpkins and snarks and giant spiders too? Stories about Others and their thralls?” Arthur asked with his lips quirked up.

The reaction was irritating but Sansa expected it. After all, did she not also think them to be nothing but figures in made up tales once? She did her best to keep a neutral face. “You don’t believe them Ser Arthur?”

“Do you my lady? Because I find it hard to. Thousands of years and none can really prove their existence”

“The Northern Wall and the Watch exists. You wield Dawn, a legendary sword said to have been forged from a fallen star, the same star on your house’s sigil. Not too long ago, dragons lived and were used to conquer the Seven Kingdoms. The Valyrian Freehold and their mages and magics existed. The story of the Bloodstone Emperor of the Great Empire of the Dawn, from the Further East, and how his vile actions may have caused the Long Night is known. Why can’t stories of the Others and the Long Night be true?”

Arthur opened his mouth to speak then closed it again while Rhaegar looked at her with his brows raised, “I thought you said you didn’t believe in magic my lady?”

Sansa tilted her head in confusion, “Did I? When? I can’t remember saying that your highness”

“You said you didn’t believe in prophecies. Prophecies are linked with magic, with the mysteries”

“I do believe in magic your highness, it is prophecies I have no interest in.”

A baffled look appeared on his face, “Isn’t that contradictory? The gifts to see or dream future events are tied with magic”

“I have no interest in prophecies because as I said before, they are dangerous like a double-edged sword or a...a half-trained mule. It looks as though it might be useful, but the moment you trust in it, it kicks you in the head. Your highness should know better than anyone. How many Targaryens aside from Daenys the Dreamer had prophetic dreams they interpreted incorrectly and was fulfilled a different way? How many died tragically trying to force their visions to become a reality? I say let the dreamers dream and the prophets tell their prophecies but don’t contort your life and the reality trying to make them come true otherwise you might just be blindly marching yourself down the road of ruin and death. Worse, you might be dragging innocent people with you”

***

Rhaegar

Rhaegar stared at the waves that rolled and crashed on the cliff but his troubled mind was faraway.

_How many Targaryens aside from Daenys the Dreamer had prophetic dreams they interpreted incorrectly and was fulfilled a different way? How many died tragically trying to force their visions to become a reality?_

Lady Sansa’s question haunted him last night and made sleep difficult for him.

How many? Countless.

Aerys I. Daemon II Blackfyre. Daeron the Drunk. Some might even include Aerion Brightflame whose belief in his dragon dreams pushed him to madness and made him drink wildfire. Aegon V and the Tragedy at Summerhall and the many lives it took.

But Daenys the Dreamer’s prophecy of the Fall of Valyria came true and House Targaryen was saved because of it. And even if some of the dreams of the latter Targaryens were interpreted wrong, they did come true, one way or another. There was more than a kernel of truth in them.

And the woods witch was very specific—that the prince that was promised would be born from the line of his mother and father. And the prophecy of those of the faith of R’hllor too was specific: Azor Ahai shall be reborn amidst smoke and salt.

_Surely it can only be me. I was born with the smoke from the fire that made a ruin of Summerhall and the salt from the tears of those who grieved and wept after. It cannot be Viserys, whose day of birth was inconsequential. No, Viserys as the promised prince is just too ridiculous. I am the elder. I am the prince who was promised. There’s no one else who could be._

But Aemon's recent ravens disturbed him. The maester said there had to be a bleeding star. There’s no mention of a bleeding star during his birth.

_Does that mean I am making a mistake as Aegon V and the others before me? Am I interpreting the prophecy wrong too?_

Rhaegar shook his head. _No. No. I must not let another person’s opinions sway me. She is intelligent, the Lady Sansa, but I am of the blood of the dragon. A dragon must not pay attention to the opinion of sheep._

“My prince? Something the matter“ Arthur asked from behind him.

“No Arthur. Just some thoughts. Shall we go to the training yards? There’s some serious competition in this tourney.”

***

Despite the prior scandal, the number of noble guests for Robert’s wedding and knights participating in the tourney was almost the same as the tourney at Highgarden.

Most of the guests were from the Stormlands, some from the Reach and the Crownlands and a smattering from the rest of the other kingdoms.

Of course Jon Arryn, his heir Ser Elbert and Ser Denys and several knights of the Vale who were friends of Robert’s attended.

From the North, Ned Stark arrived with Lord Manderly, Willam Dustin, the brothers Martyn and Rodrik Cassel and a few knights from White Harbor.

From the Westerlands, the representatives were her uncles Gerion and Tygett as well as a few knights from other noble houses such as Crakehall and Marbrand. Jaime, had not been given permission to attend by their father.

From Dorne were Prince Oberyn, Princess Elia, Ashara Dayne and some knights mostly from the Dornish Marches. And…Cersei. Who was looking at her as though trying to eviscerate her through her gaze.

Sansa ignored her and curtsied to the two Dornish royals, “Princess Elia, Prince Oberyn, it is a pleasure to meet you here. Princess, I heard the news. Best wishes on your betrothal”

Elia Martell smiled, all gentle grace in her movements and kindness in her face, “Thank you Lady Sansa. It is good to see you again too. May I introduce my good friend, Ashara Dayne of Starfall”

Ashara Dayne. The woman rumored to have been Ned Stark’s lady love before he married Catelyn Tully for duty. She couldn’t blame him if he did. At only just five and ten, Ashara was already a beauty. Tall and fair with perfectly shaped pink lips and haunting violet eyes.

Sansa gave the Dornish beauty a friendly smile, “My lady, it is an honor to meet you”

Ashara Dayne smiled and her pretty eyes smiled with her, “It’s an honor to meet you too my lady. My brother, Arthur, spoke highly of you in his letters”

 _Welllll…that’s good to know_ , Sansa thought privately. “I hope Ser Arthur spoke not too highly my lady, for I fear to fall short of your expectations” she jested. 

“I know for a fact my brother isn’t blind and have faith he possessed enough wits to know what he’s talking about” the Dornish beauty giggled and Princess Elia also laughed lowly.

Sansa then turned to the last person who gave her an ugly glare and she gave a sweeter smile, “Sweet sister, I missed you. Dorne has made you even more beautiful ”

Cersei gave her a saccharine smile in return, “Little dove” Then she stepped forward with opened arms and pulled Sansa in a tight, almost bruising hug and hissed, “Don’t look so smug little mongrel bitch. You may have won some battles but I shall win the war” then stepped back and smiled once more.

Elia frowned with a puzzled look on her face while Oberyn’s eyes sharpened at Cersei then he looked at Sansa with assessing eyes before giving her a knowing grin.

***

“I have heard of the charities you’ve started Lady Sansa and how you started the project of offering apprenticeship trainings for orphans at Lannisport. I hear it’s a success there. I would like to ask for your advice as I plan to do the same at Oldtown. Would it be alright if I correspond with you through ravens sometimes?” Princess Elia asked with a hopeful smile.

“Of course!” Sansa eagerly accepted, “Of course. Why not? I’d be honored to help princess. Perhaps we can even make connections among the orphanages so if the trade the children would like to engage in is at Oldtown or Lannisport, then we can coordinate and help with the relocation”

Elia’s smile widened, “Yes, yes, that’s a good idea indeed. We can even include Sunspear”

Sansa engaged in a lively talk with the princess and Ashara Dayne about the kinds of trainings offered at Lannisport when Oberyn suddenly spoke in a challenging voice, “You don’t approve of their efforts?”

Both Sansa and Princess Elia looked up to see Oberyn looking at Cersei with an irritated look on his face.

Cersei merely scrunched up her nose as though smelling something foul, “It’s a waste of time and gold. In fact, if commoners see that they are being so generous, some will take it as tacit approval to birth more filthy bastards into the world and dump them in those orphanages. They’d be better off ignoring those scums.”

Princess Elia’s lips pursed, Lady Ashara looked on uncomfortably and Ser Arthur just looked surprised.

“Now that is the stupidest thing I have ever heard you say” Oberyn said, his irritation worse than before.

“And what would a hungry lion do if there are no more sheep or if they somehow grew horns?” Sansa asked Cersei with a cold smile, tired of hearing her thinly veiled insults throughout the private meal with the two Martells and the Dayne siblings,

Cersei raised her chin haughtily, “There will always be sheep. That’s how the world works. There are those at the top and the ones at the bottom. Lift those at the bottom up and they will aspire for more and try to take our place. They’ll become a threat to us. Like the Reynes and the Tarbecks, they'll raise their armies to try and usurp our place. I had thought you were smart enough to know that before you went wasting father’s gold”

“Has the Dornish sun perhaps dried up some parts of your brain sister? I am not lifting them to lordships of vast lands, am I? And why are you even talking about them gaining armies? The apprenticeships will merely give them a chance to become crofters, fishers, miners, carpenters, boat-builders. Common occupations among the common folk. And in any case, they are no sheep Cersei. They are people who deserve a chance at a better future so that in turn, they can give their own children better lives. And this will not only be for their benefit. It is for ours too. Poverty is a disease that breed violence and desperation to those who are starving. Ignore this problem and the rate of crime will increase. More crimes mean more disturbances that may escalate into something more, perhaps even rebellions. And you know who they’ll rebel at. You know whose lives they’ll threaten and whose lands or castles they’ll try to destroy”

“What? You're so much of a craven you fear the smallfolk?” Cersei sneered.

“Ever heard the story of Blood and Cheese? The storming of the dragon pit during the Dance that saw five dragons dead? The past Faith Militant with its thousands of Poor Fellows and their uprisings? Or have you not learned anything from the Defiance of Duskendale?”

Cersei’s beautiful face twisted into an ugly scowl, “I will not sit here and listen as you insult me. I am not—”

“You are so right" Sansa cut her off, "You do not have to stay. You may leave anytime you wish. No one will hold you back”

“I quite agree” Oberyn drawled.

Cersei glared then stood up and pushed her chair backwards hard, making it topple to the ground. With her head held high, she walked away, her guards following behind her.

Princess Elia and Lady Ashara both visibly relaxed after.

“Seven hells. Good riddance” Oberyn muttered then turned to Sansa “Apologies my lady, but I must say your sister makes for the most miserable company I have ever come to know of”

“No need for apologies my prince.” Sansa turned to address everyone at their table, “It’s I who should apologize for our terrible table manners. I hope you all won’t take this unsightly scene as a representation of House Lannister”

“Oh no offense was taken nor do we judge your entire house for one person’s actions. Frankly, it’s a relief she’s gone” Lady Ashara assured her with a smile

“Your sister…” Oberyn spoke up, “There is bad blood between you two. I felt it earlier. Let me guess, this has something to do with her going to the deserts of Dorne to marry me while you are to marry the Crown Prince”

“Oberyn! This is not appropriate topic to be talking about” Elia spoke low to her brother but rebuke was clear in her tone

Oberyn only waved her concerns away flippantly, “We’re among trusted friends and we’re to be family with Lady Sansa soon Elia. Surely talking about relationships and differences is acceptable between family and friends”

Sansa was forced to respond when Oberyn turned and continued to look at her expectantly, “What makes you say that Prince Oberyn?”

The Dornish Prince shrugged, “I may not always use my brains before doing something but that doesn’t mean I don’t have one. I’m a third child. I know what it’s like to live in the shadows of siblings far greater than I could ever be. I know what it is like to feel as though I was deprived of something. Your sister is foolishly proud. She thinks the world owes her many things and I am sure it hurts her ego to see you have the best of things. Your father’s and brother’s regard, the Crown Prince, the Red Keep, a crown and the title of The Queen in the future. It must eat at her, the thoughts of being the elder daughter but having to bow to you and call you Your Grace.”

Princess Elia shifted in her seat and looked at Sansa with apologetic eyes. Sansa gave her a polite smile in understanding then turned her gaze to the prince.

She studied Oberyn's face, trying to determine if he was harboring ill feelings because of the situation he’s found himself—being considered a lesser prize by the jealous Cersei, mayhap even seen worthless in comparison to Rhaegar. Neither confirming or denying his words, she simply told him “I hope Cersei lets go of her notions of grandeur and open her eyes to the many wonderful things she could possibly have in marrying you”

“So polite,” Oberyn grinned rakishly then winked at her, “One could only hope so. If she doesn’t, well, it’s her loss, not mine. I may not be the Crown Prince nor the future ruling Prince of Dorne but I am confident in my abilities. I know how to make a woman feel like a queen”

“By the gods, brother, do tone down the arrogance a little bit” Princess Elia said with exasperation before rolling her eyes up.

“I am glad to see you haven’t changed Oberyn” Ser Arthur said with a smile.

“Oh I’ve changed Arthur that I can assure you. I’ve become a better fighter and jouster now. You’ll see it when I make you eat dirt during the tourney” the Dornish Prince boasted.

Princess Elia sighed, Ashara giggled behind her hands and Sansa bit her lip to keep from laughing at the charming but sheer arrogance of the man.

***

When Maege decided to greet her future liege lord, Sansa was finally given a chance to interact with her once father.

She wasn’t really sure he’d attend the wedding of his best friend. The North was too far and she thought relations between him and Robert would be strained due to the broken betrothal. It’s a relief to have his presence, it could only mean he and Robert are still friends.

He looked good. No, he looked better. He didn't appear so dour anymore. There was a confidence in his stance and a sharpness in his eyes she hasn’t ever seen before. She hoped those were positive results of now being appropriately trained by Lord Rickard as heir to Winterfell.

Sansa gave a small curtsy in greeting, “Lord Eddard, it’s good to see you again”

“It’s good to see you as well, Lady Alysanne” he greeted with a small but gentle smile.

“Just Lady Sansa please, my lord. I wrote a letter to Lord Stark but allow me to also express my condolences in person for what happened to Lord Brandon. It was a tragedy, he died too young”

Sorrow briefly showed on his face then it flitted away, “Aye, he did. Thank you my lady”

“And Lord Rickard? The Lady Lyanna and your little brother Lord Benjen? I hope they’re all hale and hearty”

“Father is well. Benjen too. Lyanna…” at this his face twisted as though pained. He has not quite perfected his calm mask then but soon he will. “Lyanna is fostering with the Mormonts of Bear Island”

“Yes, I heard from Lady Maege about Lady Lyanna’s fostering. She must be enjoying her time there. She struck me as one who liked adventure”

“Aye, she is indeed an adventurer” was Ned’s simple reply. He said it with a strange tone she tried to decipher but couldn't exactly put a finger on. She concluded it was another Lyanna issue. 

_Ned Stark. More confident and lordly but still so taciturn_ , Sansa thought fondly.

She then turned to greet his two loyal guards.   
“Good morrow Ser Rodrik, Martyn” Sansa greeted the men.

“Oh, you know us” Ser Rodrik said with his eyes widened in surprise.

Sansa gave a light laugh, “Ser, I met you both two years ago at Casterly Rock and we traveled by ship to Highgarden together. Of course I remember”

Martyn chuckled and Ser Rodrik’s mouth formed into a grin, “Not all southern highborn ladies would bother to remember northern knights' names my lady. We have a reputation for being ignorant savages”

“Well I have a long memory and I try to be as open-minded as I could be,. And ignorant? That is a highly subjective word. Savages? We all possess savagery in our own small and big ways.”

The knight chuckled, “As you say my lady”

“Are you all joining any of the competitions?”

“I’ll just spectate my lady, but Ser Rodrik and Martyn will both join the jousting and the melee” Ned answered.

“Then I wish you both good fortune in the battles to come” Sansa said with a genuine smile.

Both men laughed at her play with words and thanked her with bows.

***

Cersei 

_That little bitch and that savage_ , Cersei seethed, _how dare they both humiliate me in front of others!_

All her plans have failed so far.

She had been unsuccessful in weeding out the spies for her father and the mongrel among her retinue. None of her guards would crack under her tempers and provocations. They must really be well-paid by her father.

She couldn’t find access nor purchase poisons. The eyes on her made it impossible to do anything. The Martell people were even more untrustworthy than her father's people. She's sure the damned snakes have spies on her too. 

She cannot launch an attack on her own. The mongrel was always so fiercely guarded by the northern savages and their mollycoddling uncles. They always surrounded her anywhere she went.

The fool Gerion looked at her with tolerant and amused pity and the bastard Tygett treated her with either apathy or scorn. As if they have the right to. Third and fourth sons—useless, the both of them.

She has to do something. She cannot waste this opportunity. She must needs have a moment with Prince Rhaegar and convince him to break his betrothal with the mongrel.

But how? 


	40. Lyanna/Sansa/Cersei

Lyanna 

It was all so exciting. At first.

A new place. New people. Men who didn’t give a care if she’s wearing breeches and carrying a sword. Women who didn’t have pinched looks or disapproval in their faces when she went riding for hours or sailed along the coast or joined the hunts. People who weren’t afraid of crossing swords with her in the training yard. But that’s all.

Old gnarled oaks, tall pines, flowering thorn bushes, moss-covered grey stones, and steep hills with streams. And fish and bears—so many bears. And one Valyrian steel sword. That’s all the wealth Bear Island has and all it’ll ever have.

She now understood why even though they’re renowned and respected for their honor and prowess in battle, none really paid Bear Island and its people much attention.

The truth is it’s nothing but a cold, distant and poor land in the middle of the freezing Bay of Ice. The Mormonts only have a wood-walled castle with a smoky keep and a hall built of huge logs and is surrounded by an earthen palisade. Too cold and too damp.

There’s nothing to eat but roasts and stews of meat and fish and hard bread and very little of the fruits and vegetables that graced Winterfell’s tables. Seldom they’ll have pies but no cakes at all.

The way of life is hard. Too hard. The men are always hunting or out at sea fishing. The women and children are left behind to defend their homes.

They may be warriors good with spears and axes and swords but aside from training, there’s nothing to do but hard chores. Like skinning games, chopping wood, mending furs.

Their only source of entertainment was singing and listening to stories of bygone days of their ancestors’ wars and glories over reaving and raping krakens or wildling invaders. 

Sometimes, they'll talk about stories from the capital through letters from Lady Maege and the two other women with her. Gossips about the Mad Cripple King Aerys, the Prince Rhaegar and the ridiculous southern nobles at court.

When she’s unlucky, she’ll be subjected to irritating stories of the little lady of Lannister. This is her seven hells and even here, she’s being haunted by that Lannister bitch.

It’s all so tiring now and she’s had enough of it.

“I want to go home” Lyanna whispered.

Jorah looked at her in confusion, “My lady?”

Lyanna cleared her throat and settled for a pleading look, “I said I want to go home. Back to Winterfell. Just for a visit. Please? It’s been too long. I want to see my brothers, my father. I miss them”

“I...I'll speak with father about it, my lady” Jorah promised.

Jorah is a decent man but she can’t live the rest of her life in this place. Just the thought of it is enough to drive her crazy. She’ll talk to her father. She’ll ask for his forgiveness and grovel at his feet then perhaps he’ll show mercy. It’s not too late yet. There's still time. 

***

Sansa

When she learned that Cersei was attending the tourney, she knew the girl was going to do something drastic and stupid. She’ll want to take this rare opportunity to seek revenge one way or another.

The Cersei Sansa knew never forgot any slight, real or imagined. With all the years she’s had to live in Dorne, a land she hated, and surrounded with people she despised, the girl must be truly thirsty for blood by now.

Years of living in fear and pain under the older version, quietly watching and committing to memory all her quirks and expressions has made it easy for Sansa to read her. She’s even confident enough to say she knows Cersei better than the girl knows herself. And Sansa has seen enough to confirm what she already knew.

It was in the satisfied curl of her lips and the gleam in her hateful emerald eyes—eyes that showed pleasure as though her victory was already assured and she was already feasting on the spoils.

Still, she cannot help but sigh at Cersei’s scheme. She cannot help but shake her head at its shortsightedness, its utter stupidity.

Does she not realize how precarious their situations are with Aerys on the throne? Has she not heard rumors of his madness? Whatever scheme she came up with, whether she planned to seduce Prince Rhaegar, convince him to marry her instead or simply make him break the betrothal, there will be serious consequences not just for the two of them but for House Lannister.

And Rhaegar. Sansa won't put her faith in Rhaegar not to act foolish as well. He might just bite Cersei's bait. 

It was time to get rid of her. Whatever the repercussions of her death, they’ll be less dangerous than letting Cersei live on.

No one must know. She’ll have to do it on her own. She cannot involve others. Kinslaying is the worst taboo in all of the Seven Kingdoms and most people believe no man is so accursed as the kinslayer. She could have someone do it for her, yes, but that’ll require too much work. A single word thrown carelessly in the wind and she’ll be shunned for all her days and more. She‘d have to plan to kill that person too. Money buys a man’s silence for a time. A bolt in the heart buys it forever.

No, she’ll have to bloody her own hands this time. Or more appropriately, bloody a horse and a girl. 

Did she actually fear being cursed by the gods as a kinslayer? If they truly weren't the cruel cunts she knew them as and if they have a shred of mercy and justice in them, they will not begrudge and punish her for killing someone who’s already a murderer—who will no doubt kill more at her whim and for her own selfish ambitions. And besides, Sansa has never seen Cersei as family. Never felt anything but cold loathing and distance. She was always her enemy. From the start.

***

Gerion first looked worriedly at her before placing his hands on her forehead then her shoulders, “Are you sure you’ll be fine? We've made all the plans for this falconry for more than two moons, I'm sure we can reschedule it for another day”

“No! Uncle, please, don’t stop it simply on my account. Prince Rhaegar, Prince Oberyn and the rest are no doubt already prepared. It would be a shame to waste everyone’s time and spoil the mood because of me”

Gerion sighed, “Alright. Such a waste. And we even brought your eagles.”

Sansa gave him a smile and patted his arms gently in assurance, “Stop worrying about me, Uncle Ger. This is nothing. It might just be the weeks of travel and change in environment. I’m sure I’ll be fine after some rest. Now, Uncle, if you please, I have a request”

Gerion’s brow rose, “What is it?”

“Cersei,” Sansa sighed, “I’m sure you know why she suddenly found hawking interesting. Please make sure to watch her. Don’t let her near Prince Rhaegar”

A look of disbelief and a little amusement came over his face, “Really? You think she’s stupid enough to try something now?”

“Uncle, this is Cersei we’re talking about. The one who murdered Alysanne Lefford for no reason other than she wanted her fostering with them be put to an end. She obviously hates Dorne, the Martells and her betrothal. She has very limited options to change her situation. She’s been eyeing Prince Rhaegar. She’ll no doubt grab this opportunity to try something”

Gerion’s mouth tightened to a thin line at the reminder of Lady Lefford’s death, “Very well, I’ll do as you ask. I will watch her like a hawk”

***

Cersei 

Cersei looked at the Prince with a seductive smile.

_Oh he’s so glorious. So handsome and strong. Perfection. And he’ll be mine. All mine._

She cannot let this chance pass her by. She thought she’d have to wait long for an opportunity to arrive but the gods are finally looking down upon her with favor. The bitch is down with sickness! Oh, if only the gods would extend their kindness further and take the mongrel away. 

Prince Rhaegar is now a man of twenty, nearing one and twenty. And the little bitch is only just one and ten. The prince must be very upset with his situation—his needs as a man not being met and having to wait years for an ugly child to grow up before he could secure his own line of succession.

But he need not wait. Cersei is the eldest child and by far, more beautiful. All the riches of the Rock and the might of the West would still be behind her back if he chose her instead. Once married to the Crown Prince, her father won’t have a choice but to support her. He’ll have to, if he wants to continue being the Lord of the Rock and Warden of the West.

A woman’s greatest weapon is the one between her legs. This she knows and she’ll use it to the best of her abilities. All she needed to do is make the prince see her. Make him see her beauty.

Rhaegar is known for his intelligence and will surely realize she’s a far better match seeing as she’s actually ready to do her duty and give him princes and princesses to preserve the legacy of Hose Targaryen.

Cersei smirked at the thought of snatching it all away, _On second thought, death is far too easy. The little bitch must live a little longer. Let her watch as I take away everything from her. Keep her around until I am crowned and she’ll have to curtsey deep and call me Your Grace. Then marry her off and take her children as hostages. Perhaps even make the mongrel kiss my feet and grovel for her life._

***

As soon as she saw the horses of the falconers move, she soared and glided several hundred feet in the air.

Almost two years and now wearing the skin of a bird has become as easy as changing smallclothes.

A cat's eyes are incredible for spying at night and a dog’s nose is good for hunting on the ground but birds—birds of prey are still her favorite animals to warg—no matter the restrictions she’s been forced to apply on herself for fear of losing control.

Being an eagle or a falcon on flight made her feel more powerful, more safe. There were very few predators and dangers lurking while she’s several hundreds, sometimes thousands of feet in the air. 

And the eyes of an eagle are simply marvelous. It’s perfect for keeping watch of her intended prey. She could see things from more than a mile!

She looked down and saw the party dispersing in several groups. Most of the men entered the dense forest to hunt while a few and most of the ladies went to a higher ground giving them a perfect view of the lay of the land, including the forest where the birds will hunt for prey.

When she saw them all reach the place, she breathed deep and braced herself for a fight and some terrible pain. She’ll need just several seconds. Just a few precious seconds and it’ll be done.

She let go of the eagle and plunged herself to the horse. And through the haze of pain of the struggle with the animal, she forced to move her leaden legs and ran, her eyes focused on the downward slope before her.

She ignored the screams and shouts all around her. She ignored the smell of terror from the shrieking girl above her. She ran and ran and ran. And jumped high.

Closed her eyes. Reached for the eagle once more. And soared.

Watched from hundreds of feet up in the air as her prey flew. And fell. 


	41. Sansa/Arthur/Oberyn/Rhaegar

Sansa 

Feeling like her head was going to split into two, Sansa let go of the connection and opened her tired eyes to the darkness of her canopied bed with its heavy curtains drawn close. 

There was something sticky wet near her nose down to her chin and when she raised her hand to touch it, she knew it was blood. 

“Arra… Arra… please” she called out in a croaking voice and breathed a sigh of relief when she heard the light steps of someone approaching. She closed her eyes when the curtains were opened and struggled to open them again when she heard a horrified gasp. 

“My lady!” Lysarra fairly shrieked and soon Sansa’s ears suffered the sound of more hurried, heavy steps. 

“What is the matter?” Tygett asked loudly from the threshold.

“Ser, please send for the maester, hurry!” Lysarra said, voice on the verge of panic as she hurriedly went to the dresser where there was a small locked trunk. Inside the trunk, Sansa knew, was Lysarra's locked box of wonders containing poisons, antidotes, medicines and all sorts of things someone of her profession kept close at hand. 

After barking orders to get the maester, Tygett moved closer to her bed and pushed the curtains all the way to the side and his green eyes looked stricken when he finally caught sight of her, “What?! What in the seven hells happened? Why’s your nose bleeding?”

Sansa groaned, closed her eyes again and covered her ears, “Uncle, I beg of you, lower your voice and don’t let too much light in. My brain feels like its going to spill out of my ears”

She heard Arra move to her side again and soon she felt a damp cloth being pressed to her nose. 

“My lady, tell me, what else do you feel?” Lysarra’s voice was soft as she gently wiped Sansa’s bloodied nose, “Is there pain in your stomach? Your throat? Do your limbs feel tired?”

“Just my head, Arra. Just a splitting headache”

“Good. That’s good. Let me have a look at your eyes and mouth please”

Lysarra’s right hand took hers, the tips of her index and middle finger placed on Sansa’s wrist to get her pulse while using the thumb of her other hand to lower her eyelids. After checking her eyes, Arra then made her open her mouth and looked at her ears before looking calm once more,

“Everything looks normal. Your pulse feels a little faster than normal but not at an alarming rate. Here, drink this just in case” she handed Sansa a goblet. 

Sansa stared at it. She’s not poisoned, she didn’t need it, “What is that? I don’t want to drink it. It’s just a headache, I’m sure”

“It’s just water with bezoar stone ground into powder. Please drink it my lady, just for precaution. It will not cause you any harm as you already know. It will merely neutralize any poison in your system, if there are any” 

“Drink it Sansa. Don’t be stubborn now. It’s better to be safe than sorry” Tygett's face was laced with worry as he took the goblet and moved to help her drink the liquid content.

Not wanting anymore argument while her skull felt like cracking, Sansa sighed and drank the offered liquid.

Not for long, the Maester, whose name was Cressen, arrived escorted by a red guard. He checked on her using the same actions Arra did. 

“I don’t see any sign of poison or anything foul in your system, my lady, but yes, you do look exhausted and in dire need of rest."

“My headache, do you think I can have milk of the poppy please?”

_I don’t want to have to deal with what happened so soon in my weakened condition. I want to be far away and dead to the world when they return. Cersei has been a pain in the arse from my first life and this next. I deserve some rest before I have to face a new set of problems._

The maester gave her what she requested and promised to check on her after a few hours before leaving. Within a few moments of drinking the poppy, she laid her head on the feather pillow and closed her tired eyes. 

***

Arthur

Blood. There was so much blood. Arthur has killed before and blood was nothing knew but the sight and the smell was overwhelming.

It was splayed liberally all over the grass and the rocks with some unidentified bits added to the mix. Whether the blood and the pulpy bits were from the dead girl or the breathing but broken horse, none could tell anymore.

It was a disaster. One moment everything was fine and another it was not. The horse got spooked by something and simply got out of control, ran then jumped down the rocky slope as though wishing to commit suicide, taking its rider with it.

And the girl—the Lady Cersei. Whatever beauty the first daughter of Lord Lannister had in life, the horrific sight of her head cracked open like an egg and her limbs twisted in unnatural ways will now forever eclipse it in many people’s memories.

Not wanting to see anymore of the gruesome sight of Lady Cersei Lannister’s broken corpse and wanting to spare the other horror-stricken ladies with them, Arthur unclasped his white cloak and offered it to Ser Gerion who still looked shocked and sickly green.

When the knight’s hand trembled and almost dropped it, Arthur proceeded to kneel and cover the dead girl himself.

“Gods… gods… Tywin is going to kill me. He’s going to murder me in my sleep or push me over a cliff or…gods, he might have me trampled by horses” Ser Gerion kept muttering.

Arthur frowned at the words and tried to provide assurance to the obviously troubled knight, “Ser, we’ve all seen it was an accident. You did your best to catch up and rescue your niece. You were even ahead of us by meters. But that horse ran like the seven hells was running after it. It wasn’t your fault at all. I shall testify to Lord Lannister if need be to clear your name of any blame”

Prince Rhaegar also stepped forward, “I, too, have seen it was an accident, Ser, and am willing to be your witness. It’s just a horse that went out of control and led to this tragedy. It’s known to happen”

Ser Gerion only ignored them and knelt to cover his niece better, “Perhaps I should run away while I have the chance. But that would be a craven thing to do. And Sansa… gods I don’t think this is what she meant when she asked me to watch over Cersei”

Arthur was saddened for the knight but felt more worried for the Lady Sansa.

Through that meal with the Prince Oberyn and Princess Elia, he has played witness to the discord between the two Lannister sisters, something he has realized was mostly due to Lady Cersei’s jealousy and discontent with the lot given to her. But he knows the Lady Sansa—knows her to be kind and compassionate.

Whatever issues she may have had with the Lady Cersei, they were sisters. This death will no doubt cause her sorrow, especially now that any chance of reconciliation with her sister is gone. He hopes that she doesn’t feel guilty for what happened to her older sister and for her mourning and grief to be short.

***

Oberyn

They haven’t been far into the forest for the hunt when several riders caught up to them—their horses' hooves thumped the forest floor and their shouting out loud like bloody wild aurochs being butchered no doubt drove away whatever game was there to hunt in the vicinity.

His first reaction had been irritation. Dorne has not been gifted with forests teeming with game and he’d been excited to join the hunt—eager to show the arrogant Stormlanders and Reachers a Dornishman’s superiority with the spear.

But then the men told them of what happened and Oberyn could only shake his head then stare stupidly at the bearer of the shocking news.

“What did you say? I don’t believe I heard you right” he told the unknown man who was flushed and sweating, looking positively like a pink pig from his mad rush in the woods.

“The Lady Cersei, Prince Oberyn. She had an accident with her horse. She was thrown and her head was bashed and… well, now she’s dead my prince. Prince Rhaegar commanded us to find you and ask you to return.”

_Cersei dead? That blasted girl full of arrogance who probably thought she’ll live forever?_

It sounded like a jape but when he looked again, the sweating man did not appear about to laugh and tell him it was a jape.

“Cersei? Cersei Lannister?” Oberyn could not help but confirm once more.

“Er… yes, Prince Oberyn. The one and only” the man answered nervously.

_So it could only be true. The vicious lioness is dead. Why else would this man go through all the trouble and make himself look even more ugly?_

Oberyn slowly nodded his head and decided to return to the castle, his guards following him. Let not the Lannisters say he was stone-hearted and insensitive that he would ignore the death of his betrothed.

Though in all honesty, he felt relief wash over him. Did he hate Cersei enough to want her to die? Of course not. The stupid girl was a pain in the arse and his future with her did not look promising but he didn’t wish her dead. But the thought of not having to suffer the rest if his life with a bitter woman brought him some comfort.

He thought of his mother’s desire for a Lannister match and grimaced. That obviously wasn’t going to happen now with his betrothed no longer with the living.

Then he thought of the other Lannister girl. The Lady Sansa who is betrothed to the Crown Prince. There’s a great opportunity there.

The Lady Sansa has now become friends with Elia and they share a common cause in their desire to help the destitute, especially impoverished children.

In contrast with her older sister, the younger Lannister girl also spoke kindly and showed proper respect for Oberyn’s kind but frail sister. He even caught her looking at Elia with gentle smiles.

He can no longer be a goodbrother to the Lady Sansa but he could become a good friend instead. Who knows, perhaps one day, like his mother and Lady Joanna before them, he and Elia could achieve and enjoy a close friendship with Lady Sansa.

They could be good friends enough and hopefully come to an agreement to have their own children wed. A future child of Elia’s who will have Martell and Hightower blood looks especially promising for a Targaryen prince or princess.

Yes, that’s what he’ll do. Remain good friends with the younger sister of his late betrothed.

***

Rhaegar

Rhaegar has sent men in two directions. Some to the forest to recall the Prince of Dorne who was betrothed to the Lady Cersei and some ahead to Storm’s End to make the Lord Steffon aware of the tragic incident.

He wasn’t surprised to see the Lord Hand and Ser Tygett standing at the gates when they at last returned to the castle.

“My prince. I got word from your men that there has been an accident. What the hell...what happened?” Lord Steffon asked as soon as Rhaegar swung down from his destrier.

“Indeed there’s been a terrible accident my lord.” Rhaegar reported gravely. He first looked at the Lord Hand before facing Ser Tygett, “Ser, I regret to inform you of what’s befallen your niece. The Lady Cersei’s horse bolted and threw her down the rocky slope”

Ser Tygett suddenly looked ill, “Tywin’s girl. Gods. Is she...?”

“The lady did not survive the fall. She’d been thrown high and when she fell, her head… it wasn’t a pretty sight”

Ser Gerion and his men soon arrived with the wagon carrying the corpse and Ser Tygett took hurried steps toward them. The two youngest Lannister brothers were soon engaged in a heated conversation then Ser Tygett made an abrupt turn and returned to where Rhaegar and the Lord Baratheon remained standing, his jaws looked sharp enough to cut steel and his face dark.

“We’re leaving. As soon as the silent sisters are done preparing Cersei… the corpse for travel. Pardon Lord Baratheon, this is not meant to slight you nor your family but we must go. Back to the capital. Else Tywin might think this an attack to House Lannister and do something drastic”

The Lord Hand nodded solemnly, “The day after tomorrow. Let us leave the day after tomorrow. You just informed me the Lady Sansa is still unwell and was told by Maester Cressen to rest. Let her have her rest Ser, for I fear what Tywin will think if we returned to him one daughter dead and another sick or gods forbid, dying. Let us also give our men ample time to make the necessary preparations. I’ll have my people prepare for our travel now.”

“But what about your son’s wedding Lord Hand?” Ser Tygett asked.

“I will have Robert wed tomorrow night. We leave the day after and the rest of them can continue with the damned tourney and the celebrations” the Lord Hand answered right away. His decisions were clearly made on the spot by the deep frown apparent on his face.

“The Lady Sansa is still unwell?” Rhaegar asked, interrupting the conversation.

“Yes your highness. She complained of a splitting headache earlier and the maester had to give her milk of the poppy so she can sleep more comfortably.” Ser Tygett answered him then he turned to the Lord of Storm's End, “Lord Baratheon, I accept your proposal. Thank you for being willing to move things around for our sake. And I agree, traveling by ship would be more convenient. If you please, I must go make the necessary arrangements with our men”

Rhaegar nodded along with the Lord Hand and they watched as the most gifted warrior of the Lannister brothers turned to go to his youngest brother who was looking pale and lost as he stood guard over their dead niece's corpse.

“I like this not. This…I feel this portends darker things ahead. Old fishwives here in the Stormlands believe misfortunes never come singly. They believe bad things come in threes. Like death.” Lord Baratheon said with a look of unease on his face.

Rhaegar wanted to dismiss it as just that, an old fishwives' tale. But as though the heavens were in agreement with the Storm Lord, lightning suddenly struck on the horizon. Streaks of pure white light crackled against the distant dark gray clouds followed by the sound of loud thunder.

It felt ominous.


	42. Sansa/The Dragon

Sansa

It was to a world without Cersei when she next woke up late in the afternoon. The milk of the poppy fortunately gave her time and none had wanted to wake her up in her condition.

When news of Cersei's death was broken to Sansa, she had to dig up the memories of all her losses in the past to appear the shocked then grieving sister—but not too much.

Tygett and Gerion have both watched her grow up and knew the distance and strife she had with the deceased girl. She refrained from hysterics and overly dramatic display of tears. The remains of her headache and her pallid face thankfully helped in presenting a more believable mummer’s act.

“This…It cannot be true. What you’re saying must be a jape. Come now uncle” Sansa shook her head in denial.

Gerion sighed tiredly, running his hands through his disheveled, long blonde locks, “It is. It is true San. I’m not japing. I wouldn’t jape about this”

“But Cersei?! I-I… I don’t understand Uncle. How could she be dead? Just earlier this morning, she was alive and looking at me with disdain… and now you’re telling me—I…” Sansa trailed off in a weak voice and looked at her uncle with wide, confused and disbelieving eyes.

Gerion nodded and stepped forward to embrace her, “I know… I know. Come sit down, you still look unwell” he guided her to a seat.

“Oh please, I’m not what we should all be focusing right now Uncle. Tell me, what exactly happened?” she grasped his forearms tightly and turned pleading eyes at him.

“It was all so sudden. I can’t believe it myself Sansi. One moment she was there and the next her horse ran like the wind and flew down the slope”

Sansa shook her head again, closed her eyes and finally sat down. Then she lifted her two hands to massage her truly aching head, “We have to go back. Father will not…We have to go back to the capital. Tomorrow we—”

“We leave for the capital the day after tomorrow. By ship. Don’t worry yourself anymore about the preparations. It’s all being taken care of already. Lord Baratheon and the Prince Rhaegar and his retinue are leaving with us” Tygett interrupted calmly.

“But what about Lord Robert’s wedding and the tourney?”

“Lord Baratheon already made changes for our sake. The wedding will be tomorrow night and the tourney will continue without us”

Sansa breathed deep shakily in relief then fixed her gaze on her lap, “I still can’t believe it. This all feel strange and surreal. My head still aches. Mayhap this is merely a fever dream?”

“No. No you are not dreaming” Gerion patted her gently in the back.

Sansa bit her lip and played with the sleeves of her gown while looking down, “I hated Cersei. You both know that. I never liked her when we were children. She was always mean to me. And I gladly paid her back. Did you know? Her last words to me were little bitch and my last act to her was to roll my eyes in disdain. But now… it all seems so foolish now. We… we will never have the chance to patch things up between us. Never. And Father, Jaime and Tyrion… They’ll never see her again”

She looked up at Gerion and blinked several times, willing tears to fall from her eyes.

Gerion gently ran his hand on her hair before sitting on the chair opposite her, “I know. I understand Sansi. I, too, had been dismissive of your sister. I don’t think you have to feel so guilty though. She was quite persistent in making herself unlikable”

“What will happen now?”

“What happens next? Your father holding me responsible for her death” Gerion muttered with clenched jaws.

“But it was an accident!” Sansa protested, “There are witnesses—you said so”

“Aye. But I know your father. I’m telling you, I’ve lived three and twenty years now in this world and almost all of those were spent under his rule. He’s going to blame me for this. Cersei wasn’t just his eldest child, she was also his pawn to secure an alliance with Dorne. Now, that alliance is most likely going to be severed”

“No. There are other ways of keeping that alliance working. I have more friendly relations with Princess Elia. I’ll talk to father. He can’t punish you for something you didn’t have control of.”

Gerion’s lips twitched up, “You can try. But what you need to understand is he’s different with you niece—because you’re his beloved child. That doesn’t mean he’ll extend that treatment to me”

Sansa shook her head and reached for his hands, “No. I’ll make him listen. I swear I will Uncle. He’ll listen.”

***

Starting from the breaking of fast the following morning, she’d been inundated with visits from people all wanting to share words of sympathies and condolences.

Of the many that spoke to her, she could count only a few truly genuine ones. Most of them, she knew, were only for propriety's sake. The rest were mummery.

The first of those truly genuine were, of course, her northern warrior maidens and Lysarra. Maege and Lysarra both fretted for her condition and were hawk-eyed in watching her and ensuring she got short breaks when she tired.

They were followed by the Baratheons. Lord Steffon and Lady Cassana both expressed unfeigned regret at what happened to Cersei. The Lord Hand himself looked particularly stressed. Stannis stiffly and awkwardly gave his words of consolation while Robert had the nerve to jape that Cersei could’ve waited to die after the wedding and the tourney—a rude jest that earned him his father and mother’s ire. 

Next were the Princess Elia and Lady Ashara who gave her a hug and a gentle squeeze each. The Princess even expressed disappointment that they would no longer be extended family. Sansa swore she would think of them as her friends and promised to keep in touch through ravens.

Prince Oberyn, for once, did not act his arrogant, carefree self. He even decided to join them in their return to Kingslanding.

“It’s only right,” he said, face unusually somber. “She was my betrothed. She was sent to Dorne alive and well. It’s my duty to at least be there when she is returned in a box. To face your Lord Father bravely when I offer my condolence. It’s the least I can do”

Next were Rhaegar, Arthur Dayne and the prince’s posse of noble lordlings. Rhaegar sounded dull and trite as ever, the look in his purple eyes flat and lacking genuine emotion. Jon Connington sounded as if he was merely talking about the weather. Arthur Dayne at least sounded and looked sincere like his sister.

Their vassals from the West predictably approached her and her uncles. Some even offered to accompany them to the capital.

The Riverlords and those from the Vale spoke with formality and politeness. As she expected. 

The Florents also expressed sympathies but in their eyes she saw disdain. Her lady warriors and Lysarra shared rumors of poorly guarded complaints from Lord Florent and his lady wife. They were upset that Cersei’s death was taking away some of the attention from their daughter’s wedding. They were also rumored to be displeased with Lord Steffon’s decision to move up the date of the wedding and leaving for the capital instead of staying for the tourney. All predictable reactions.

Ned Stark and his northern companions also sought her out. They were among the few who looked truly sympathetic.

“I didn’t imagine it’d be like this, my lady. That I should be the one to tell you my condolences now. I am sorry that you had to experience the loss of a sibling too” he said with grave face.

“Thank you, my lord” Sansa smiled sadly at him, “Both of our mothers and eldest siblings dead. What an unfortunate thing to have in common, Lord Eddard.”

“Tis true. Quite the misfortune” he agreed then spoke gently, “I hope you find comfort in the fact they lived, rather than spend years agonizing over their deaths”

Sansa’s lips twitched. _Oh, if only you knew all the things she did, you won’t be saying that._

***

“Alysanne. No, it‘s Sansa isn’t it? And Prince Oberyn. On behalf of House Tyrell, I offer you two and Houses Lannister and Martell our condolences. Such a tragedy it had to happen to a beautiful young girl” Lady Olenna said as soon as she sat down on the chair to join their group.

The Queen of Thorn’s pitying gaze and overly sympathetic tone were both so reminiscent of Margaery's that Sansa knew not to misconstrue them as real—they were anything but. Sansa was now far from that helpless little girl she was when she first met this woman. She’ll not fall for the honey sweetness of the Roses, she knows they hide poisoned thorns.

Cersei’s death, she knew, would be secretly celebrated not just by the people the dead girl has offended in the entire time she was still alive but also by ambitious people (like the Tyrells) who envied her father and their house.

House Lannister is the wealthiest at present, its banner men all under its thumb. And although Tywin is still known as hard and harsh, with the charities Lannister gold has been funding in recent years, its reputation with the common folk is improving by the day. She’s certain that her betrothal with Rhaegar, Jaime's with Catelyn and Cersei’s with Oberyn must have been huge bones very difficult to swallow for other lords and ladies hoping to further their own ambitions. 

Of the rest of the great houses, she’s very much aware of the Tyrells’ potential to become a hindrance in what she’s trying to achieve.

Where in the previous life Olenna saw Sansa Stark as a stepping stone to achieve more power and influence for her great house, now she sees Sansa Lannister as a huge ugly thorn in her path. A competition, a strongly positioned pawn she needed to knock off the game before she gets to become a queen.

Case in point: the useless presence of her youngest buxom daughter Janna Tyrell, dressed in a very tight, sleeveless gown with it’s back half-open, exposing more skin than was necessary. The girl was blushing and giving Rhaegar surreptitious, doe-eyed looks and shy, beguiling smiles.

“Thank you Lady Olenna. For your kind words” Sansa bowed her head a little to the older woman.

“I can only imagine how difficult it must be for your family, especially to Tywin. Watching his great legacy fail bit by bit. Suffering losses one after another. First his beloved wife, then there's the matter with your dwarf youngest brother. And now his eldest daughter who was supposed to be a Princess of Dorne. It only goes to show that no matter how great or wealthy you are, death doesn’t care one bit”

The nonchalant tone, the careless words, the sardonic smile, the amused look in her eyes—everything about the Queen of Thorns right that moment just made Sansa bristle with irritation inside.

“So very true, my lady. What’s the saying from East? _Valar Morghulis_ —All men must die. I heard your husband, the late Lord Luthor died almost the same way. That he rode off a cliff to his death while hawking too. Quite the similarity for our houses to share isn’t it?”

The Lady Olenna startled a little then scoffed, “Oh yes, that he did. The fool wasn’t watching where he was going”

Sansa nodded sagely, then with a serious maester-like voice said, “Ah. There's many very important lessons we should all learn from both their deaths so such tragedies don't repeat, wouldn't you agree? Like watch where you’re going. And remember all beasts, even those trained and seemingly sweet and docile are capable of going out of control and cause suffering. Also be careful when climbing high places—the higher you get, the deeper the fall." 

Oberyn snorted from beside her. “Indeed. Very good lessons to keep if one wants to live a longer life” he said with a hint of a feral smile.

***

After a very long day, the wedding ceremony was finally out of the way. Despite the sudden, unexpected change in the schedule, it still went on smoothly, do doubt due to Lady Cassana and her staff’s best efforts.

The many prayers, the vows, the singing—all of it went by like a whirlwind. Robert was now a married man and Rhea Florent was now Rhea Baratheon, happily and proudly wearing a dark cloak with a stag rather than a fox. Sansa bet all her savings from the allowance her father granted her over the years (seventeen hundred gold dragons by her last count), that the new bride won't be for long—happy and proud, that is.

All around her the feast was in full swing, the food and drinks were in abundance. Conversations were loud and full of enthusiasm. Many bards had come and gone, singing familiar songs the male guests already on their way to drunken stupor raucously sang along with.

Rhaegar was also persuaded to play his harp and sang two songs—Jenny of Oldstones and Florian and Jonquil. It made the maidens cry then sigh and look at him adoringly, a few almost salivating at his good looks. It made Sansa’s fatigue and headache grow worse.

“Are you alright my lady? Would you like to retire to your quarters now and rest? We'll have a long journey ahead of us starting tomorrow” Lysarra asked worriedly.

“No Arra. Let’s wait, until the bedding at least. We’ve already caused the Baratheons enough inconvenience as it is. Let’s not offend them further”

“You’ve barely eaten anything. You should eat some more. Want me to get you anything in particular?” Maege offered.

“Ah no, no, thank you Maege. I find myself lacking appetite. I’m afraid eating or drinking more would only make me feel more sick”

“Then you won’t mind if I take this?” Raya grinned while reaching out for Sansa’s goblet she hasn’t touched for a while now, “I’m thirsty. It’s been a long time I danced with a real man of the North. Rodrik Cassel tired me out”

Sansa smiled and nodded then returned her attention to the Arryn table, thinking of excuses she could make to go there. She hasn't made any substantial headway with House Arryn nor with any of the Vale houses. And for the life of her, she cannot think of anything to change that undesirable state of things.

“Raya are you alright?” Maege’s alarmed voice made her turn her head and her eyes widened when she saw blood coming out of Raya’s nose.

“I feel… I…” Raya whispered before gurgling and vomiting blood then falling forward.

Everything happened all at once.

Maege shouted Raya’s name while standing in a hurry to catch her. Larra was not far behind her. 

“Poison” Lysarra gasped with a hard voice, grabbing the small vial on the necklace she wore and moving forward to shove its contents down Raya’s throat.

Some of the ladies near their table screamed in panic, catching the attention of the other guests.

Tygett and Gerion both ran to them, their faces both horrified and frightening in their anger.

For a moment, all that Sansa could dumbly think of was Joffrey and his damned wedding. Then she jolted up from her seat, standing on her feet as she roved her eyes swiftly around the great hall.

Someone tried to poison her and Raya is at death’s door for it. She has a very strong feeling in her gut that she knows the main perpetrator.

***

The Dragon

Enemies. Enemies. Enemies.

From the North to Dorne. From the East to the West. Filthy, lowly beasts thinking themselves better than the Dragon.

The Dragon! Of the blood of Old Valyria. Whose ancestors helped create the mighty empire of the Freehold. Whose ancestor the Great Aegon the Conqueror defeated their puny, idiot ancestors in just a short few years and forged the Sunset Kingdoms under the rule of the Iron Throne and the House of the Dragons. With fire and blood. Fire and Blood!

Wolves in the barren, snowy lands. Thinking they’re still Kings of Winter. Absurd. The North Forgets. But They Should Remember. Torrhen Stark. The King Who Knelt. They should remember him. Remember the coward who knelt before the Dragon and gave up his crown and people to keep his life and lands and ugly castle. The North belongs to the Dragon! Not the cowardly wolves.

A fleet. Ships. Battleships. To battle who? Dare they try to wage war with their King? I’ll show them. I will. Winter is Coming. Hah! They forget snow melts under fire. They should remember. Or the Dragon will MAKE them. 

Falcons high up in their rocky mountains. Looking down their King with judging eyes. As High as Honor! Idiots. A falcon can fly high but what is it compared to a Dragon? Nothing! Nothing but a miserly meal.

The Vale of Arryn they say. The Vale Belongs to the Targaryens! My house! They live by the mercy of the Dragon. Making friends with wolves. They better keep to their lofty castles or the Dragon will see their Wings Ripped Apart and Burned to Ashes.

Ambitious trouts. Selling the teats and cunts of their fish-smelling daughters to the wolves and lions. Thinking the Dragon is stupid and blind to their plots. Forgetting they’re now paramount lords of the Trident by the grace of Aegon I and House Targaryen. Forgetting that what was given can be taken away.

Aegon should’ve burnt them all like he did Harren and his castle and his people. Weaklings! Thinking they can rule the lands when all they’re good for is to swim with other stinking fishes. Let them try to rebel and the Dragon will see the Trident run red with bloody trouts.

Stormlands. Seed of the Bastard Orys. Bastard Baratheons. No better than Blackfyres. Steffon. Steffon. To think that I trusted You. The Defiance of Duskendale. The gods damned House Darklyn. It’s all your fault. All Your Fault. You have failed me. And now you throw your lot with those who seek to take away my Crown. You can try cousin. You Can Try. But you will Fail.

Roses. Not a beast but equally ambitious. They better keep being loyal else they get trampled on the ground and become compost to the fields.

Martells and Hightowers. How dare they presume they can fool Me? Me! Their King! Conspiring against the Crown for what? For that feeble Gerold and that limp-dicked Lewyn who were unworthy, good-for-nothing Kingsguards?

Unbowed. Unbent. Unbroken. Slithering vipers in the barren sands thinking they’re better than everyone else and arrogant enough to still call themselves princes and princesses. No more. No more.

Tywin FUCKING Lannister. The true king they said in the past behind my back. And now the ungrateful Rhaegar. My own son. Born of my own seed. Scheming with stags and vipers and lions. Consorting with everyone of them traitors to take away MY CROWN and MY THRONE.

I AM THE KING! ME! Not Tywin Lannister. Not my traitor son Rhaegar. ME! The IRON THRONE is mine and NO ONE shall take it from ME. The Seven Kingdoms are mine. ALL MINE! By Blood. By Right. 

Traitors. Traitors. All of them. They dare try to surround and push the Dragon to a corner. I will KILL THEM ALL. Every last one of them. With Fire and Blood. 


	43. Arthur/Sansa/Rhaegar/Tywin

Arthur

“We’ll have to call off the search for now. It’s been hours and the darkness of night works against the men, some of whom have gotten drunk during the feast. Dark and drunk equals danger. And we have to face it, from the looks of it, the missing serving maid could very well be dead already. If I have to make a guess, we’ll probably see her dead body floating in the sea tomorrow. If we are lucky that is” Lord Baratheon declared, his face an image of frustration and exhaustion.

“No!" Ser Gerion said in a raised voice. The normally good-looking and genial knight looked like a feral lion ready to lunge at anyone as he stalked the available limited space of Lord Steffon’s solar, "That is unacceptable. I don’t care who you are Baratheon! Here in your territory, one of my nieces died. Yesterday that might have looked like an accident. But now? Now we have this! My youngest niece could have died. Raya is dead. Within your castle! Within your great hall! I’m starting to think Cersei’s death and this were both deliberate, premeditated attacks against House Lannister. That maid must be found. At all cost!” 

“Or, could it be she cannot be found because you or your people are hiding her hm?” Ser Tygett accused in a dangerously, challenging tone. He stood behind his seated niece, green eyes all alertness and his dominant hand clenching and unclenching on the pommel of the sword sheathed at his side.

The Lord Hand bolted up his chair and loudly smacked both his hands on his working table’s surface, the fury in the Baratheon words clear in his eyes. For a moment, Arthur feared a fight would break out and he put his hand on Dawn’s grip. Fortunately Lady Sansa immediately stood up from her seat and turned around to her uncles.

“Uncle Tyg! Uncle Gerion! Please, stop it. Let's all be calm. Bad tempers and baseless accusations will not help in anyway. And I doubt the Lord Hand has anything to do with this. It doesn’t make sense for him and his family to commit such crimes under the laws of Guest Rights knowing their house’s integrity and reputation are at stake”

She next gave the offended Lord Baratheon an apologizing look, “My lord, my apologies. It’s been a very difficult two days for our family, as I’m sure you’re aware of.”

Lord Steffon visibly tried to calm himself, “I’ll let it pass this time for you, my lady, and only because I know how much you’ve all gone through in such a short time. But I’ll not suffer further insults nor will I tolerate accusations of murder and obstruction of justice. Your uncles would do well to remember that”

“Thank you my lord” She nodded then turned back to speaking calmly with her fuming uncles once more, “I agree with the Lord Hand. It is dark. The men can search all evening all we want but let us be realistic—the sea is just on the other side of the castle. Anyone can simply get rid of a corpse by tossing it there.”

From her sickness the previous day, to her sister’s accident and death and now the death of one of her ladies and the threat on her life—it is a miracle and very admirable she can still think and function efficiently and also play the leash and mediator for her enraged uncles despite the paleness of her face and the hint of dark smudges beginning to appear under her eyes. Arthur believed that if it were any other girl, they’d have chosen to hide away surrounded with guards in a locked room or succumbed to maidenly tears or simply fainted from exhaustion.

It had been a long day and night and it did not end in the way it was supposed to. When it became known that the poison was placed in Prince Rhaegar’s young betrothed’s goblet, Lord Baratheon promptly stopped the feast and the disappointed, grumbling revelers were dismissed and ordered to their tents and various quarters. He next rounded up all those who served food and wine for interrogation.

Despite knowing she was the target of the botched assassination, Lady Sansa had shown a spine of steel and insisted to be part of the investigation.

Thankfully, and to their surprise, she still recalled the faces of all those who served at the Lannister table. There were only four people she said. Three were there and she immediately identified that one maid, the last she remembered to have approached their table, was missing. The three present were sent to the dungeons for further questioning but Lady Sansa insisted for torture not to be implemented while the last missing maid was not found. Her request not to torture had been a point of contention with her uncles and even Lord Baratheon disagreed with her but she reasoned out that the fact they did not disappear could mean innocence and ignorance of the crime.

The Western lords, Lord Jon Arryn, Lord Ned Stark, Lady Olenna Tyrell, the Martells and a few Riverlords readily offered their men to help form several search parties. The search has been going on for almost five hours now but so far, none had returned to tell them the missing suspect was found. To make matters worse, the Bear Islander warrior woman Raya died just two hours ago despite the neutralizing antidote Lady Sansa’s other maid administered.

The wedding has decidedly become a total disaster. Everyone was at an edge. Lord Baratheon looked ready to take out his sword from its scabbard and stab anyone who’d enter his gloomy solar to give him another disappointing report. Lord Arryn looked weary and worried as well. Lord Ned Stark looked even more dour. Lady Mormont looked ready to commit murder. And the two Lannister brothers were just downright extremely difficult to deal with. Only their niece was effectively keeping them from becoming too troublesome or violent. It was frustrating to deal with them but everyone understood. The knights were in charge of their nieces' safety and under their watch, one has died and the other almost got murdered.

The worrying thing was, both girls were daughters of Lord Tywin Lannister—the man most feared in the realm and was known for his decimation of two noble houses because of their refusal to pay their debts, disrespect and rebellion. He was certain the extent of the Great Lion’s response to such attacks on his children weighed heavily in everyone’s minds. So heavily in fact that already, many lords and their knights have decided not to stay for the tourney.

Most of the Riverlords and their knights were leaving within the sennight. The young Lord Eddard Stark and his small retinue have also decided to leave. It was agreed between the Lannisters, the Lady Mormont and Lord Eddard that the bones of the dead Bear Islander will return North with the Stark party. Lord Arryn and his men too will depart after a few days. Most of the Reachers and Dornish were already packing up their things in preparation to leave Storm’s End. Lord Robert and the Florents were undoubtedly frothing with anger at how things have gone down the latrine.

“I too agree. It has been a very long day for all of us. Two very long and tiring days for the Baratheon and Lannister families. I doubt we’ll see further development this night. I suggest we all take a rest before more tempers flare and we devolve into unnecessary fights. Let us continue this when the morning comes” Lord Arryn calmly suggested.

“Yes, we should call it a night. We are all exhausted and not equipped to deal with the issues calmly and rationally. Some rest must be had, my lords” Prince Rhaegar said in support of the Lord of the Vale.

With most of the lords and the Prince himself pushing for respite, their group broke up and emptied Lord Baratheon’s solar, each one of them carrying heavy thoughts for the present and some measure of apprehension for the future.

***

Sansa

As soon as the door to their assigned rooms were closed, her Uncle Tygett rounded on her with disappointment painted on his face.

“How could you just let this go? This is a serious matter San—an assassination planned out against you with Raya as the victim instead. If we let this pass, we’ll look weak in the eyes of the other houses” he said in a low angry voice.

Sansa reached out for his hands and spoke quietly, “Uncle, I am letting it go because I have an idea on who machinated against us. But without evidence, we cannot go after the schemer. Don’t hold your breaths. That maid is dead, I am sure.”

“What?!” Tygett started in surprise at the revelation, “Who the fuck is it? I’ll go and put my sword through their brain. Is it Baratheon? Arryn? The Florents? Martells?”

“No. Not any one of them.”

“Who was it then? My lady, Raya was of Bear Island and therefore under my family’s rule and responsibility. Justice must be served accordingly” Maege stated in a hard voice.

“And you shall have it, I swear to you Maege. You'll have to wait though. We must stay our hands for now. If we insist to pursue the matter, it will only get ugly and bloody. Many houses will take sides, most likely against us for throwing accusations without substantial proof. They’ll think we are using it as an excuse to malign another house. If or when heated words turn to acts of violence, many people will be dragged into this and more innocents like Raya will die. What kind of justice would that be then?”

 _Isn’t that how things devolved before?_ Sansa closed her eyes and easily remembered through her exhaustion. _A Hand’s murder. A letter containing made-up accusations from Lysa. Bran’s fall. More lies from Littlefinger. Catelyn acting out on those lies without regard for the consequences of her actions. Tywin destroying the Riverlands for vengeance and to prove House Lannnister’s power and might. And many more actions and consequences followed that ultimately left the entire Seven Kingdoms utterly fucked when winter came._

Maege looked displeased at first but eventually nodded her head, “I understand. Can you at least tell us who it is?”

Sansa gave both Tygett and Gerion looks before turning to Maege. She let go of Tygett and reached for the warrior woman’s hands next and squeezed them, “No, not yet Maege. Not here. We must first get to father. You’ll know it then. I promise, by the old gods and the new” she swore while looking her in the eyes.

The Mormont woman thankfully squeezed her hands in return and lost her harsh look before giving another nod.

Sansa then addressed the other issue that weighed heavily in her mind, “Raya’s family… I know it’s cold comfort and not enough to pay for their daughter’s life but I promise to make it up to them somehow. Will you help me explain to them what happened?”

Maege patted her shoulders gently, “Don’t be too hard on yourself. It’s not your fault. We all knew what the stakes were when we agreed to come south and act as your guards. I’ll write a letter and give it to Lord Ned to pass to Raya’s family. For now, let us get you comfortable and rested for the night. The gods only know what new problems we’ll face tomorrow”

Sansa let the older woman guide her to her rooms to dress down and get some needed rest.

***

Rhaegar

Rhaegar watched from the window of his rooms as the castle of Storm’s End grew smaller while their ship sailed farther away. It was with mixed feelings he’s leaving the Baratheon lands. On the one hand he was relieved, on the other he felt trepidation.

The Lord Hand’s words came true. Death came in threes—Lady Cersei, the woman from Bear Island and the serving maid whose corpse was found floating facedown and bouncing with the waves against the castle walls facing the sea the morning after that disastrous feast. And now, it felt like there’s a terrible storm forming in the distance.

An assassination attempt against his betrothed—it angered him some.

She’s just a girl, no matter how mature she always acted. She’s too proper and boring sometimes and her age honestly grated on him but she’s proven to be capable and sufficiently prepared enough to perform well in her role that it’s becoming easier to think of her as his future queen.

Moreover, she’s the only girl capable of getting him the support of Lord Tywin, the strength of the armies of the West and most important of all, the key to the vaults of the gold of House Lannister—very important advantages should it come down to a struggle between he and his mad father one day.

And someone tried to take her and all of it away. It unsettled him.

Could it be an enemy of the Great Lion who wanted to prevent House Lannister from becoming even more influential?

It was the strongest possibility he thought of. It would make sense if other lords felt threatened and tried to intervene. The West, the Riverlands, Dorne, the Iron Throne—that’s a southern power bloc anyone would fear. The Tyrells in particular would feel cornered. To make matters worse for them, the Florents are now allied by marriage with the Stormlands and the Hightower heir is marrying Princess Elia of Dorne. 

Or is it someone secretly harboring ambitions of marrying their daughters or female relatives to him to gain more power and move ever closer to the Iron Throne? If that was the case, who could it be?

There were no Arryn and Baratheon daughters. The Stark, Tully and Martell daughters were already betrothed.

Velaryon then? Hightower? Or Tyrell?

It caused Rhaegar a headache thinking the different angles and possibilities

To top it all, he didn’t know what his father’s position and response would be to these events. Would he celebrate Lord Lannister’s loss or feel threatened and show some anger that his chosen betrothed for his son was almost assassinated? It's hard to guess what was inside a madman's mind. 

“The Lannisters seem more calm. It is strange they simply accepted the death of that servant—too easily. I must admit I expected Ser Gerion and Ser Tygett to raise more fuss, to cause more trouble for the rest of us. Lannisters are certainly fond of dominating a situation and making themselves heard. What do you think happened My Prince?” Jon asked.

There’s that too. There was something decidedly different with the Lannister party. They looked far too calm and subdued when everyone else expected them to be more…troublesome. It was indeed strange.

“Could it be they already have an idea of who planned it?” Arthur shared his guess.

Jon frowned, “But who could it be? There’s far too many people present in that feast. And it doesn’t make sense they’d keep quiet, Ser Arthur. If they do know who it is, why not pursue them?”

“Like I said, perhaps they have an idea. That does not mean certainty. And as for why they can’t confront or give chase? The lack of evidence will work against them, for one. Second, it could be that the enemy is strong thus the need to retreat for now. Lastly, they might be planning to let Lord Lannister handle it. If it were I, I would do the same. He’ll definitely be more thorough in dealing with the matter.”

“You believe so Arthur? That they have a suspect, I mean” Rhaegar asked as he sat down on the chair in front of the wielder of Dawn.

Arthur shrugged, “That’s the only answer I could come up with. I think…”

“The Lady Sansa?” Rhaegar finished the line of thought.

"She did play a huge role in the investigation not to mention of her efforts in keeping her uncles leashed"

“Her? Isn’t that a bit preposterous?” Jon looked skeptical.

“You’ve witnessed her last night. Sick and exhausted, she was able to still narrow the investigation down within minutes. She identified the four servants who served their table and even remembered the features and color of the missing maid’s dress. Tell me that didn’t surprise or impress you”

Rhaegar nodded, “That was indeed surprising. If you were to make a guess, who do you think is the culprit?”

“I dare not, My Prince” Arthur answered right away.

“It’s only us three here, Ser. There’s no harm to speak your mind” Jon needled.

“Even still, I dare not hurl accusations against anyone” Arthur replied in a firm voice.

“Alright Ser” Jon put up his hand in a placating gesture before continuing more seriously, “It’s not so surprising though, is it? Many out there would love to knock the Great Lion down a peg or two. The Lannisters are much too powerful for their own good.”

“But to plan the murder an innocent young girl to make it happen? It’s far too dishonorable. And now, it may likely lead to bigger and lasting problems”

Rhaegar sighed heavily at the thought of possible consequences of what happened, “I agree. It was a vile act indeed and with things as they are…worse things could happen in the near future”

“What, do you think it will escalate My Prince?”

“I believe anything could happen at this point, Jon, especially with Lord Lannister” Rhaegar answered, “And with my father King Aerys at the helm…” he trailed off, knowing the two knights were smart enough to understand what he did not say.

Rhaegar dearly hoped things didn’t worsen. He has no desire to rule a warring or broken Seven Kingdoms.

***

Tywin

_Brother,_

_I am sorry I must be the one to break such grievous news to you. There has been a tragic accident. It happened during the falconry we all planned for while we were still in the Capital._

_Cersei joined the group. It was decided that Sansa forgo the activity as she suffered from lack of sleep due to headaches she experienced the night before and continued the day of the event—the same kind she experienced once in the past, if you’d recall._

_For reasons we still cannot comprehend, Cersei’s horse just suddenly went out of control and jumped down a rocky slope. Cersei fell and has unfortunately suffered fatal injuries._

_Brother, I am so sorry but she died…_

His eyes flew back to the previous lines to ensure he didn’t read it wrong.

_Horse went out of control. Cersei fell. Fatal injuries. Died. Dead._

With a slight tremor on his hands, Tywin put down the scroll informing him he has just lost his eldest daughter.

 _Accident. Cersei. Dead._ His mind repeated the words several times. It was slow to understand and sink the new reality in.

It was difficult to believe. It was very hard to accept. Children aren’t supposed to die before their parents—they’re supposed to outlive and bury them. Children are supposed to grow up, live better lives, contribute to and pass the legacy of their house to their own children. They're supposed to grow old. They’re not supposed to die young.

_Oh Joanna. Our eldest child. Gone. Gone._

He swallowed through the tight feeling in his throat and closed his eyes in grief for the daughter he lost. His eldest child with the woman he loved and lost too.

_Do you hate me for not thinking of her that much, wife? For pushing her away and ignoring her wants and desires? For remembering her just now when news of her death reached me?_

He shook his head. No. His wife would understand. She had to. She saw how he, with the help of his siblings, had to pick up the pieces of House Lannister from the muck their incompetent father left it in. She knew everything he had to do to ensure the survival and legacy of their house.

He did not want Cersei dead. No. She was his child. She was his blood. He had loved her and had wanted and did what was best for her. He could have done better by his eldest, he’ll admit it, but Cersei was a difficult child who tried to engage her brother in vile acts and was not afraid of killing another noble lady—a loyal vassal of their house.

So he did what was necessary for the good of both her and House Lannister. He dealt with the cards he was given and played them to the best of his abilities. He even honored Joanna’s agreement with her friend, the ruling Princess of Dorne. Had granted her wish to betroth at least one of their children with one of the Martell offsprings.

And Cersei’s complaints of being denied her proper due as his eldest and her bitter accusations of being made to feel less than her sister?

She wasn’t Aerys' choice for Rhaegar, that the Mad Cripple was clear about. And she did not have the qualities necessary of a Queen, that much became clear in the last few years. She would’ve become a disappointment. She would’ve grown unhappy and bitter or worse, destroyed herself and their house in the process if he’d given in to her selfish wants and desires.

Even so, despite not having the chance to become queen one day, she was still going to be a princess—a title and a position of great worth but without the heavy burdens her younger sister would have to carry in the future. It was the next best thing, the most logical to do.

And sending her away to Dorne? She was always meant to leave the Rock and live with her husband. Sending her away was as much for her own good as it was for their house. She needed to see and acclimatize herself with the Dornish way of life.

She was meant to live. She was meant to grow older than he was right now. She wasn’t meant to die this young.

_I only did what was good for her, Joanna. What was best. I swear I did. But it’s all for naught now. She’s gone. I cannot reach her anymore. She loved you most. I hope she finds her way to you. That she finds peace and contentment in the afterlife._

Tywin took deep breaths and resolutely pushed down the pain he felt in his chest. He clasped his hands together, tight and almost bruising, and bowed his head. And prayed. Not to the gods he no longer believed in but to the one he loved most. For their daughter he lost. 


	44. Olenna/Sansa/Tywin/Blackfish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much to the readers of this story, especially those who left kudos. :)
> 
> Apologies this one took long. I've finished writing this chapter 3-4 days ago and had it flushed down the toilet coz I wasn't happy with how it turned out. I've been writing and rewriting this chapter for days hoping to make it better. Lol. Hope you all like it.

Olenna

“Well, your plan’s an epic failure mother. Are you truly certain this won’t be traced back to us?” Mace asked after swallowing the food in his mouth.

Olenna scrunched up her nose when she saw her son quickly cut then shove another chunk of roasted boar meat in his mouth and swallowed again after barely chewing.

The Oaf. If he didn’t stop eating so much, he’ll soon be named the Fat Oaf of Highgarden. Worse, some might even call him Lord Piggy behind his back. What an ugly moniker that would be.

Olenna snapped her silk fan shut in irritation and arched a brow, “Mace, are you seriously questioning my intelligence? You?” she asked with a challenging voice.

Her oaf of a son lowered his knife and fork before answering in a careful voice, “Of course not. I only meant to make sure our house will not be put in danger in the future. You have to admit, that was quite the daring move against House Lannister. What about Lord Tywin?”

Olenna scoffed and waved her fan dismissively, “Oh with his eldest daughter dead and his precious second almost murdered, the Great Lion will surely rage. Hear me Roar and all that. But against whom? Against the Martells? Against Steffon? No, that would be a great folly. The Martells are now in a near sealed marriage alliance with the Hightowers. The Baratheons are friends with the Arryns and the Starks. He has no evidence. He’s no fool to alienate other houses. And, his precious daughter is still so young and could still be discarded by Aerys. No matter how much he’ll want to pay the debts owed to him, his hands are tied”

“Be that as it may, our situation hasn’t changed. Well, there is indeed the gift of a broken Lannister-Martell alliance the girl Cersei graciously granted us by dying. But that’s not much. What do you plan to do next? What about Janna? Are we still not going to betroth her? Prince Oberyn is without a betrothed now”

“As if I will pounce on a second son with an empty title and give a daughter of mine to one of those horrid vipers” Olenna sneered and rolled her eyes before continuing, “And what would be the point hm? When Elia Martell marries and have spawns with Baelor Hightower, their half-Dornish children would be cousins to your children. Or have you forgotten?”

“Well, I am just saying… There‘s not enough heirs of wardens and lord paramounts close to Janna in age left”

“Don’t you worry your little head, Mace. There‘s still plenty of time, plenty of opportunities. The Lannister girl is still a child. She’s what? Eleven? Twelve? She’s to marry Rhaegar when she bleeds. Girls who get pregnant very early are more likely to die. And history has shown Lannister women don’t have the best of luck in the birthing bed. Joanna died giving birth to the Imp. Tywin’s mother died within a month after giving birth to Gerion. She could still die. Or we can help hasten it. But that is for another time. What you need to be concerned about is getting another babe in your wife’s womb. Produce more spawn”

“Mother, Alerie has already given me two healthy sons. She just gave birth to Garlan last year. I’d say we’re being productive enough” Mace answered with a measure of bluster.

Olenna raised a brow, “And? It’s been more than a year. Get her with another child. You see now how having many sons and daughters is important to creating alliances for a great house? Do your part in bedding your wife and I shall take care of the rest”

Mace sighed, “As you wish mother”

***

Sansa

Sansa knew since that fateful Tourney at Highgarden that the Tyrells would most likely be problem. They’re a house driven to prove to everyone they’re worthy of the Reach and were highly ambitious to achieve even more and climb greater heights. With all the marriage alliances of other great houses happening all around them, they were bound to feel threatened. Especially by House Lannister.

To somehow address the issue, she had thought of possible marriage offers they could make but ultimately failed to come up with any.

With Jaime promised to Cat, Cersei to Oberyn and herself to Rhaegar, there were no further favorable marriage alliances that could be made. No great house will accept Tyrion for their daughters, that much she already knew.

And though her father was very much available, Tywin marrying Olenna was simply a horrifying thought. That… won't end well for all of them. Tywin would probably hate her for proposing such a match.

She had considered her uncles Tygett and Gerion but as third and fourth sons respectively, any marriage they have wouldn’t be as influential. She was also reluctant to see them leave her side. She trusted no one more than the two when it comes to her protection.

But now… Well, it all doesn’t matter anymore. This attempt on her life has drawn the line between her family and the Tyrells.

She knows it’s Lady Olenna. She didn’t have concrete evidence but history has already proven to her just how far the woman and her son would go to elevate House Tyrell. To Sansa, Olenna is neither a rose nor a thorn—she’s a damned grasping harpy.

Her involvement just made sense. With the West and the Riverlands about to enter a marriage alliance, the prospect of seeing her married to Prince Rhaegar and tying House Lannister with House Targaryen must’ve caused the Tyrells some sleepless nights.

“A silver for your thoughts?” Prince Oberyn’s friendly voice snapped her from her musings.

She looked up and saw him with another Dornishman, Lord Quentyn Qorgyle who was heir to Sandstone and Prince Oberyn’s foster brother.

“Silver? We Lannisters only accept gold, Prince Oberyn” Sansa quickly answered.

Lord Qorgyle chuckled while Oberyn laughed, “Of course! How foolish of me. How many gold coins then my lady?”

“All that you possess and more”

“My, I haven’t pegged you to be a greedy lioness. I was wrong then hm?” Oberyn grinned before sitting on the chair in front of her. “How are you little lady? Truly?” he asked with more seriousness this time.

Sansa set aside the ancient _Watchers on the Wall_ book she was reading earlier and gave the Dornish Prince a wan smile, “As well as I can be, all things considered”

He looked at her intently with his dark eyes, “Hm… you still look pale. Perhaps some time on the deck outside would do you some good? Some direct sunlight and fresh air… well probably salty air, but you know what I mean”

He said with a shrug before turning to Maege and Larra who ceased sharpening their blades and were now watching their interaction like hawks. The two women have become even more vigilant in their protection of her. Even Arra has turned slightly paranoid and insisted on tasting everything she put in her mouth.

“Ah the beautiful warrior ladies of Bear Island, good morrow! It’s always a pleasure to be in the presence of fierce women such as yourselves” Oberyn grinned then winked at Maege.

“Good morrow Prince Oberyn” Maege returned the greeting with a smirk and a look in her eyes that made Sansa perk up in her seat.

_Are they…? Are the two flirting with each other?_

Oberyn reached for the book she put down. When he saw the title, a dark look passed over his face before he put it back down and wore a friendly look once more, “The Night’s Watch and the Wall eh? Mine Uncle Lewyn says in his letters it is the most distasteful place a Dornish man could live in. He constantly writes us asking for wine and foodstuffs, especially fruits. Said the food they eat up there are practically for pigs. He's also always asking for nicer clothes, cloaks, boots and weaponry and perhaps some men.”

“And how is Ser Lewyn coping with his Night’s Watch duties?” Sansa asked gently.

Oberyn shrugged, “He’s become a master-at-arms for Castle Black last he wrote and seems to be enjoying the training lessons he gives the black brothers. But the rest of the time, he’s just miserable. I’m actually planning on giving my poor uncle a visit. I’m sure seeing his most handsome nephew would do him some good”

“Oh! Do let me know when you decided to go visit. Perhaps we can arrange for more men from the prisons in the capital to join. I might also be able to convince father to send some useful supplies”

“Of course, I’d be glad to little lady” the Dornish Prince agreed with a smile, “You know, it’s funny how in the past the Wall was just a distant and strange place but now… Well, our beloved uncle is up there now so House Martell is quite dedicated to provide as much help as we’re able”

“It’s a good thing your house is taking helping the Wall seriously Prince Oberyn. For many years now, the Watch has fallen into decline and northern houses have practically been the only ones giving support” Maege remarked seriously.

Oberyn grinned rakishly at Maege once more, “Ah, well, with Uncle Lewyn there, you can rest assure Dorne, and perhaps even Oldtown when Elia becomes it’s lady, will not turn blind eyes to the needs of the Watch”

***

Tywin

Tywin crushed the little scroll in his trembling fist, his mind a frenzy of thoughts.

Poison. Poison. Someone dared to poison his child. His daughter. The headache. Was it poison too?

And Cersei! Was it truly an accident? Or was it murder? 

The Strangler! They dared try to use such vile poison.

Who? WHO?!

Steffon better have prepared the best damned explanation known to man.

And Tygett and Gerion. Lysarra and Mormont. What were the idiots doing?! How could they have let this happen? They better prepare for a tongue-lashing. 

Tywin stood up from his chair but sat once more when he felt his knees buckle in his rage.

When he finds who did it—WHEN and not if, because he WILL find them—he will personally make sure to pour a barrel of strangler down their fucking throat after making them watch their entire family, their entire house drink strangler too.

He’ll tear down their castles, their homes, stone by stone. He’ll salt their lands. The Rains of Castamere will be nothing but a child’s lullaby compared to the songs the bards will sing once everything is done. 

He reached for the quill and an empty parchment. 

Ravens. He must write letters. He must have his spies in all the houses become more observant of their lords and ladies. To find out more. 

It’s one of them. One of the ambitious houses who thought to use the corpse of his daughters as their ladder to gain more power. 

An ambitious southern house. He’s sure of it.

He’ll find them even if it takes years.

***

The Blackfish

Brynden tried hard not to grimace when he heard the King laugh again.

The man was clearly mad. There’s very little sane thoughts inside his head anymore.

What kind of sane person would laugh and celebrated the death of an innocent child? What kind of man would laugh after hearing that another innocent child was almost poisoned to death?

The fucking King of the Seven Kingdoms!

And the fools Velaryon and Staunton are doing their best feeding his head with rumors. Can't the fools see they’re only fanning the flames of insanity?

These frequent secret meetings between the Mad Cripple and his two lapdogs. This sudden trip to Dragonstone.

Brynden didn’t like them. There’s clearly something going on. His gut feeling has never failed him before. And it’s telling him right now shit was about to fall down their heads.

Something is wrong.

Why the sudden desire for travel after all these moons of being cooped up in Maegor’s holdfast?

***

The secret spy hurriedly went to his room, locking the door behind him. 

He went to his table and took out a parchment and ink and quill and wrote with a trembling hand. 

_Lord L,_

_Twenty ships. Rumors of great fishing opportunities in the Narrow Sea within the moon. Great creatures so close to fishing net._

_D. S._


	45. Tywin/Sansa/Ned

Tywin

Twenty warships being manned to capture a noble or nobles from a great house or houses. Someone whose travel route is the Narrow Sea.

A huge stone fell to the pit of Tywin’s stomach after reading the scroll—a warning from an unimportant captain whose mother was a Lantell of Lannisport, one who was also in his employ and currently at Dragonstone.

There seems to be one problem after another these days. First Cersei. Then the attempt at Sansa's life. Aerys just leaving for Dragonstone without a word.

 _Well, Aerys has always been a problem and excelled in making even more problems for others to deal with_ , he thought with anger and disdain. 

His mind immediately went to his daughter.

He shook his head. _No, it cannot be. Aerys would not dare to hurt her in anyway. He won’t if he knows what’s good for him and his house. He knows how I deal with my enemies and their houses. He knows of the Reynes and the Tarbecks. Knows what I did to all of them and even got impressed a long time ago._

The betrothal between Sansa and Rhaegar ensured the West will stand with the Crown. Aerys will not dare jeopardize that.

Then his mind went to other houses. Stark and Arryn. They’re the only other two families who’ll travel by ship from the Stormlands—Stark to White Harbor and Arryn to Gulltown.

The North made a surprising move when they started to rebuild their fleet. Not that they were breaking any laws. Like the rest of the Seven Kingdoms, they’re entitled to a naval force. Hells, it was strange the largest kingdom with one of the five major cities did not have a fleet when other smaller regions like the Stormlands possessed naval forces.

It was within Rickard Stark's rights to make that decision as Warden of the North and the man did send word to notify the Small Council.

And it was only what? A paltry naval force of fifteen ships? And five barges that will mostly be used for shipping goods between White Harbor and Lannisport now that trade between the two has increased. And there are only five of them currently in existence and Northerners are not known for fighting at sea.

The Vale, like always, kept to themselves high up in their mountains—their heads and hearts filled with _honor_ , looking down at everyone with judgment and sneering at all the politicking in the capital.

_Tch, as if they don't harbor any ambitions of power and not playing any filthy politics too, the hypocrites._

_But what in seven fucking hells is Aerys planning to do now? Is he trying to capture one of them? Is he trying to plunge the Seven Kingdoms into war?_

“Ser Ilyn, summon twenty of your men. I want to meet them within the hour” Tywin commanded.

He needed to make arrangements. To make preparations to fight or flight.

***

Sansa

When their ship neared the mouth of Blackwater Bay and she saw many ships of the Royal Fleet sailing past one after another, a dark foreboding gripped her and questions crossed her mind one after another.

What was happening? Why were those ships sailing instead of remaining anchored at Dragonstone or Driftmark? Did something happen during the time they were in the Stormlands or during all this time they sailed? What is Aerys doing? 

She turned to Tygett and asked, “Father did not send any word about any trouble in the capital, did he?”

“No he did not” Tygett confirmed, “Why?”

“The Royal Fleet uncle. Why are the ships sailing?”

Tygett’s brows furrowed in thought then he shook his head, “How should I know? Perhaps trouble in the Eastern coast? Could be a squid infestation that needed to be dealt with”

Sansa looked out the small window of their rooms again and frowned, “You really believe that?”

“What is it San? What has you concerned over such a matter?”

She turned to him fully, “I don’t feel good. Something tells me there's more that's happening or about to happen. When was the last time the Royal Fleet had any movements? During the Defiance of Duskendale?”

“Well, nothing we can do about the lack of knowledge and information right now. There’s only around a week left and we’ll be in the capital soon”

Sansa looked out the window once more. _Am I failing? Have I already failed when I did nothing to get rid of Aerys and let him live past the Defiance of Duskendale? No, whatever happens or is happening, there cannot be war. Father. I must convince him to speak with Rhaegar._

***

Ned

Loud and hurried knocks made Ned drop the book he was holding.

“Lord Ned? My lord we must speak at once”

Ned got up from his seat to open his simple cabin’s door and frowned at seeing a panicking Lord Wyman Manderly.

“Lord Manderly? What is it?”

“My lord… Ships. From the Royal Fleet. They’re… it looks like they’re trying to surround us”

Ned stood stock-still, almost afraid to breathe, “Are..” he swallowed the lump in his throat, “Are you sure? What made you say that my lord”

“I am sure my lord. There’s two of them so far. Yesterday, the captain reported having caught sight of the ships with the Targaryen banners using his Myrish eye. They were just moving about in the distance as if drifting, with no clear movement or direction. But today, they’ve moved closer and closer. They're very close. What are your commands my lord?”

Ned felt his knees weaken, his head feeling heavy as if he’d gone and went deep in his cups.

_What to do? What to do? Father, I don’t know what’s happening. I don’t know why this is happening. I am afraid and I don’t know what to do._

He felt two hands grab his shoulders tight, “Lord Eddard! Ned!”

Ned shook his head to clear it and looked at Lord Wyman’s pale face, “I don't… what would you recommend my lord?”

“They clearly have us within their sights my lord. I’m afraid trying to escape them now will worsen whatever is it that’s happening”

“No. No. Trying to run away would make it appear as if we are guilty of whatever it is they’re pursuing us for. And we can’t be sure we can escape them, can we?”

“I am afraid not my lord. I don’t know what’s ahead. There might be more of them” Lord Manderly admitted with clenched jaws.

“Then… then let us meet them with utmost civility. If they want to…take us with them, we shall do so peacefully"


	46. Ned/Tywin/Sansa

Ned

With the two royal ships fast approaching, he and Lord Wyman quickly went to writing letters bound for White Harbor and Winterfell. Thankfully, the Lord Manderly kept ravens in his ship.

In his letter, he went on to inform his lord father of the unexpected unpleasant situation they found themselves in and explained his decision to allow themselves to be taken to avoid further problems.

After seeing the ravens released, he went on to give commands to his men: Stand down. Act with courtesy. No matter what happened, none must raise their sword. No speaking out of turn. Not so much as a glare or a sneer. Do not give the men of the Crown reason to attack and make whatever it is that has happened or is happening worse.

In truth, he was afraid. No, he was terrified. He cannot think of a reason as to why things are happening the way they are. And knowing the King’s reputation, he’s afraid things will get worse. And if it comes to war?

The North wasn’t as secure as he thought it was. The Ryswells and the Boltons were about to enter in a marriage alliance.

As for the south…The trade with the Westerlands was just picking up and if things get heated between the Crown and the North, Lord Lannister will no doubt support the Crown—his daughter was betrothed to Prince Rhaegar after all. If the trade ceased, it will be a great blow to the North’s economy.

The Stormlands was not reliable. Despite him and Robert being friends—something that’s now tainted with the broken betrothal—the Baratheons were kin to the Targaryens and Lord Steffon was Hand. Almost half of the houses in that region were also Targaryen loyalists.

The Reach was a solid Targaryen loyalist while Dorne kept to their own. The Iron Islands…knowing the Ironborn, they’d happily side with the Crown and reave the North’s eastern coasts.

Lord Jon may be their friend and ally but—Ned wasn’t sure of the entire Vale. There were also strong Targaryen supporters there. And Lord Jon would have to think of his people's welfare first.

The North’s alliance with the Riverlands was just as tenuous. The region shared borders with the Westerlands, the Crownlands and the Reach and with Lady Catelyn betrothed to the Lannister heir… Hoster Tully may change his mind and break the betrothal between he and Lady Lysa to keep his lands and people safe.

The North could very well be alone.

Ned closed his eyes and clenched his hands into fists. _So few allies. Lyanna. You might have just helped spell disaster for the North because of your disregard for your duty._

Now up close, he could see not just the Targaryen banners with the three-headed dragon but also some with the Velaryon silver seahorse and a few with the Celtigar red crabs. On the deck stood perhaps fifty men, some clearly archers. One of the archers broke rank and aimed for their ship

Ned heard Ser Rodrik muttered from behind him, “What in seven hells?”

“A message, I am sure of it” Lord Wyman answered.

Sure enough, after Lord Wyman had one of his men retrieve the arrow, they saw that a small scroll was attached to it. The Lord of White Harbor gave the scroll to him and Ned hurriedly opened it. And stood still upon reading its contents.

“What does it say my lord?” Lord Wyman asked with worried eyes.

Ned swallowed hard before answering, “They’re commanding the ship head for Dragonstone”

“Dragonstone?” Lord Wyman asked in confusion, “Why?”

Ned shook his head, “I don’t know. All it says is His Grace…the King Aerys is expecting us at Dragonstone”

“Then…Dragonstone it is we go”

***

Sansa

Her father, the feared Tywin Lannister, stood tall and imposing like a sentinel tree at the private docks of the Royal Family. Behind him stood ten red cloaks. He was obviously waiting for their arrival. And impatiently, by the look in his eyes.

The Prince Rhaegar and his retinue who disembarked earlier were already gone but Lord Steffon remained and stood beside him. There was a visible tension between the two men—no doubt having to do with the events that occurred in Storm’s End.

As soon as Tygett helped her down from the plank that served as a bridge from the small boat which ferried them from the ship to shore, Tywin closed the remaining distance and snatched her. He clutched her shoulders tight and took her appearance in from head to foot while firing questions one after another in a low voice.

“Are you alright? Has your sickness passed? Are you well enough to speak about what in seven hells happened in Storm’s End?”

Surprised at the unexpected show of concern, Sansa jerkily nodded her head before answering, “I—yes, I am fine. And yes, I would like to speak with you too as soon as we get to a private place

“Good”

He turned to Tygett and tersely gave instructions for the accommodations of Prince Oberyn and his men, the transport of Cersei’s bones as well as a command for her two uncles to meet with them after. Then he guided her to her mare and helped her mount.

***

Tywin

His blood boiling for many days now, Tywin glared at the silent Mormont woman before turning his gaze to his daughter, “Why does this woman have to be here?”

Blue and green eyes met his resolutely, “Because I gave her my word she’ll be present when I tell you who I think planned the poisoning. Raya was from Bear Island, father. She could have stayed there and lived a long life. But because of her service to me and House Lannister, she’s now dead.”

Tywin gritted his teeth at the reminder, “Very well. Tell me everything”

“I wasn’t there when… when Cersei’s accident happened. You’ll have to ask Uncle Gerion about it. But…after the accident, the following morning, the other lords and ladies approached us to give their sympathies. I didn’t notice anything from the other nobles. The Martells were genuinely sympathetic, this I am sure of. Lord Arryn was kind. Ned Stark and his people too. Lord Steffon, I am sure, had nothing to do with it. What reason would he have for making an enemy of you? Why would he want his house and family name dragged through the mud for breaking Guest Right? And it was his son’s wedding. Please don’t…just don’t blame him. Don't alienate him and the Stormlands for a crime they know nothing about“

Tywin clenched his jaws but upon seeing green and blue eyes looking at him determinedly, he gave a perfunctory nod in agreement, “Who do you suspect then?”

He watched his young daughter took a deep breath before speaking, “Whatever I say must not get out of this room. Swear it to me first, all of you”

Tywin felt his irritation flare, “Sansa—"

His daughter only raised her chin in defiance, “I said swear it. I have no proof. This is merely a suspicion but one wrong word and it could mean lives”

“I am not a fool” Tywin growled.

“I swear it” the Mormont woman said in a strong voice. 

His daughter turned to look at her quiet uncles. Gerion sighed heavily before swearing while Tygett looked on in anger.

“Please uncle. This is very important” his daughter pleaded.

Tygett shook his head, his face one of exasperation before agreeing, “Fine. Fine. I swear it. Out with it.”

“I suspect Lady Olenna” his little girl said in a low voice, almost a whisper.

Tywin stilled then swiftly processed the information. The Mormont woman went still while his two younger brothers made their anger known.

“That fucking bitch!” Tygett growled.

“That damned Olenna?! This is… why did you not tell us this then, Sansa?” Gerion asked crossly.

“Because it was just a suspicion. And I feared you both would react the way you’re doing now” his girl said calmly.

“But we could have—"

“She’s right” Tywin interrupted Gerion harshly, “She made the right choice to wait. You idiots would’ve made an even bigger mess of things than you already have” He then turned to his daughter, “What made you think it was her?”

“She spoke with me earlier that day. Expressed her sympathies and threw in some barbs about your legacy failing bit by bit, mentioned the losses of House Lannister. While Raya was choking on the floor, I looked around. While everyone else looked shocked or horrified, for a moment, she looked…perhaps, disappointed. It is not much evidence to go by but…of the great houses right now, who’s most competitive with House Lannister but is not playing that well?”

“Yes, Yes. I do remember that old bat talking trash” Tygett said darkly.

“Hn. On its own, House Tyrell can be dealt with easily. But with Hightower, Redwyne, Tarly—some of the wealthiest and strongest houses in the realm—this must be dealt with carefully. None of you are allowed to make any moves against anyone from House Tyrell until I say so, understood?”

Tywin gave each of them a glare until they gave him nods of understanding.

_It will not be today. It will be in moons. Mayhap years. But I will see to the downfall of your great house Olenna. And you shall have that Strangler to drown your sorrows with._

“This is why you didn’t want to tell us. Because had we acted rashly based on mere suspicions…” Mormont trailed off then sighed.

“Yes. You understand Maege, don’t you? Why we cannot just carelessly pursue justice for Raya. If we do, by the end of it—if there's even an end to it—there’d be more injustice than we would be able to keep count of” his daughter replied.

The Mormont woman closed her eyes and nodded, face an image of disappointment, then stood up, “If you please, my lord, my lady, may I leave and take some time alone for now?”

“Go” Tywin commanded.

When Mormont was gone, Tywin turned angry eyes at his youngest brother, “And Cersei? What is your excuse for your incompetence hm? How could you have let her die under your watch?”

“Let her die? You think I wanted your daughter dead? You think I simply stood by and allowed it? I tried to save her, you fucking ass. I did. You can ask everyone else” Gerion retorted heatedly.

Tywin growled menacingly, “You dare speak to me this way after all your failures?”

“You started it by accusing me. Do you think I am some all-knowing, all-powerful god brother? That I would be able to predict an accident and stop it with the snap of my fingers? I am certain not even you in all your genius could do it. Just like you weren’t able to save your wife” Gerion answered mockingly.

Tywin heard his daughter gasp through the vicious throbbing in his ears before she spoke in a pleading voice, “Stop! Please stop it you two. Can’t you see this isn’t helping? Whether Cersei’s death was by accident or someone else’s design, we shouldn’t be fighting amongst ourselves. We already have enough enemies as it is. Spare your anger for them, not take it out on each other”

Silence ruled the room for a while before Tywin stood up and stared his insolent younger brother down, “You will never speak this way again to me. You will leave the Capital and return to Casterly Rock tomorrow. You will take Cersei’s remains with you”

Gerion’s anger turned to disbelief, “You’re not going? You will not even give her a proper burial? She’s your daughter”

“And she’s dead!” Tywin snapped, “I can have a gold coffin made for her but it won’t change the fact that she’s dead. I cannot leave the capital. Something crucial is happening. Aerys is making a move. I need to stay. And you won’t just be returning to the Rock with my daughter’s bone. You will help Kevan prepare and lead the Western army at anytime when I send word”

“What exactly is happening Tywin? What is the problem? There were ships. The Royal Fleet is moving. We encountered several of them” Tygett asked.

“A message from my man at Dragonstone said Aerys has ordered the capture of someone. It could be Arryn or Stark. I am leaning toward Stark”

“You think it might lead to war?” Tygett asked next.

“Knowing Aerys, it just might” Tywin answered darkly.

***

Sansa

_It’s not too late. It can be fixed. Make a ladder from the chaos and help get everyone out of the pit the Mad King made and bury him in it._

“What is it you need to speak further with me alone? Are there any more problems I need to know about?” Tywin asked with a raised brow.

Sansa clenched her hands into tight fists on her lap, “It’s about what you said. Aerys taking Ned Stark captive. If he does… Father, we must help him. Help ensure a war does not happen”

Her father looked at her with sharp, green eyes before answering, “I do not have control over Aerys’ actions. And if it comes down to choosing sides, you know very well the choice I will make. House Stark is of no importance to us anyway”

“ _Family first_. I understand. I understand perfectly well also that House Lannister’s legacy must live on. And I know the Starks don’t matter to you. But father, if Aerys could do this to one house, he could do this to us. So long as he is King, none of us will ever be safe. He could change his mind at anytime—like breaking my betrothal to Rhaegar or worse, with him having suspicions about his heir, he may very well put Viserys ahead in the line of succession. And if war breaks out… it will cost the Seven Kingdoms. Lives, gold, resources. And it will also fracture relationships that will take years to properly mend—if they could even be mended when all is said and done.”

“And what do you suggest then? Have him assassinated?”

“This can be turned into an opportunity. We could avoid a war and get rid of Aerys at the same time. If the King has indeed captured Ned Stark, if we help free him, we can have the North’s support and perhaps even Jon Arryn's. Prince Oberyn is here, you could talk to him. With the Riverlands and the Vale and possibly the Stormlands and Dorne, it should be enough support. Then talk to Rhaegar. Make him beholden to you. Wed us to assure him of House Lannister’s support. Convince him to call on a Great Council and have Aerys deposed”

“You would be willing to marry him so young?” he asked with a frown.

“Yes. If it will help dethrone Aerys and prevent a war then yes. I don’t want to be a queen of a war-torn Seven Kingdoms father. It will even be better this way because then, you can set a condition that I am not required to birth heirs until I am at least fifteen”

His frown disappeared and a glint in his eyes and a serious look took over. He then reached out for a blank parchment and his ink bottle and quill and started writing before commanding softly, “Go. Get some rest”


	47. Brynden/Ned/Sansa/Rickard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the kudos and apologies for the delay in updating. Unfortunately my laptop overheated. The motherboard is toast and the hard drive was affected too. (T_T). I've been so very busy securing my backup files and transferring them to the new one.

Brynden

“Again! Flog him again! Harder!” the Mad King screamed, “I said harder!”

Brynden clenched his hand on the pommel of his sword to keep his control and grit his teeth hard when the thong of Monford Velaryon's whip struck Eddard Stark’s back for the ninth time. 

“Confess! Tell us of your traitorous father’s plan and you shall be given the choice to take the Black instead. Confess!”

Ned Stark was clearly in pain but, to his credit, he still looked the King in the eye when he answered, “N-no Your Grace. I know not what rebellion the letter you received is talking about. My Lord F-father would never…Never.”

“Liar! You dare lie to me, your King?” the Mad King Aerys raged from his throne—purple eyes wild, disgusting spit flying, a crumbled piece of parchment clutched in his dirty, taloned hand.

“You still refuse to tell us what you know of your father’s crime?! So be it! Lucerys!” the King bellowed for his Master of Ships.

“My King” like an eager, faithful dog, the Lord of Driftmark proudly presented himself before the raving mad cripple.

“Put their entire crew to the sword. Put their heads in boxes and have them sent to Winterfell. Tell Stark this: Come to Dragonstone and present yourself before your King or the next box will be that of your useless son and Manderly’s”

Brynden took deep, measured breaths to keep a hold of himself then he surreptitiously looked at the other kingsguards to see how they reacted to the latest cruel command.

Barristan looked unfazed as ever, prepared to do his duty as the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. Brynden knew voicing any protest or objection to Selmy will not do him any good. No, it will only make the man suspicious of him and perhaps even report him to Aerys.

Willem Darry looked just as determined to serve the King of Madness. And with House Darry also showing more loyalty to House Targaryen, talking to the man might just spell House Tully’s doom.

Monford was a Velaryon and clearly looked happy and honored to perform anything to prove his loyalty to the Crown.

The rest? All sheep.

He grit his teeth knowing he will find no help from anyone at Dragonstone. It was probably the reason Aerys opted to leave Kingslanding—all the people in the damned island were either shoved too far up his stinky, puny dragon ass or too craven to stick out their necks against his tyranny.

No matter how much he wanted to save the Stark heir and the Lord of White Harbor—surrounded by men from the Houses Velaryon, Celtigar and other noble families of the Narrow Sea notorious for being Targaryen ass-lickers—he just couldn’t see a way out.

A rebellion? It’s preposterous. It didn’t make any sense whatsoever. Brynden refused to believe the allegation. He has met Rickard Stark a few times and knows of the man’s reputation for being honorable despite his obvious ambitions. And although he sought highly desired southern betrothals for his children, only one remained.

Based on what Brynden knew and what little Hoster shared, those betrothals were to ensure House Stark has strong allies and at the same time, to improve the North’s economy—the trade with the West being an example. If allies and economic development were Rickard Stark’s goals, rebelling against the Crown would be an utterly stupid move. It would only cause the North to lose whatever gains they’re slowly accumulating.

No, the Starks weren’t fomenting rebellion. Someone clearly wanted to put them down. But who? And why?

***

Ned

Lying on his front on the pallet to save his back from more pain, Ned ignored his starving stomach and succumbed once more to asking the Lord Manderly questions, “I don’t understand. I truly don’t…Why would anyone accuse father of this?”

Only two days in the godsforsaken island and the Lord of White Harbor already looked gaunt, especially in the flickering light emitted by the torches. His normally amiable face looked sallow and his laughing pale blue eyes were now dim.

Ser Rodrik and Martyn didn’t look any better. Both of them looked utterly exhausted from lack of sleep trying to guard him at all times and uselessly tending to his wounds.

“I don’t…I have been thinking and I…” Lord Wyman shook his head then looked away.

Ned slowly sat up and bit back a cry from the pain on his back as he shifted to find a better position to face the older lord, “Lord Wyman, what is it?”

Lord Manderly looked at him once more with a disturbed look in his eyes, “I think someone is playing with us as sacrificial pawns, my lord. Everything—the current situation is ripe for taking down House Stark, don’t you see it? Lord Brandon’s betrothal to Lady Sansa Lannister broken by the King. Lady Lyanna’s betrothal to the Lord Hand’s son and King Aerys' nephew broken also. The North’s trade with the West. The start of rebuilding the Northern Fleet. Your betrothal with a southerner. A simple letter to the King…”

The Lord of White Harbor trailed off but Ned understood what was not said.

A simple letter to a Mad King who’s known to be even more suspicious and violent after Duskendale. Yes, a simple letter would be enough to make House Stark the focus of the King’s wrath.

His tongue feeling heavy inside his mouth, Ned asked, “Who? Who do you think it is?”

Lord Manderly’s eyes turned dark even more, “My lord, who do you think will reap the benefits should House Stark fall?”

Ned was the one to look away this time. His eyes then fixed on the black stone shaped like sharp dragon claws serving as a torch-holder and attached to the wall facing their prison.

A dark and grim place, that’s what Dragonstone was. The citadel was made almost all of black stone. To him, it looked grimmer than even Winterfell. He wondered how it would compare to the Dreadfort.

But even through the hunger and the pain on his back, he could see why the Targaryens were so proud of it. It’s overall architecture really cannot be compared with any in the rest of the kingdoms.

Statues of many formidable beasts dotted the place: Gargoyles, grotesques, basilisks, cockatrices, griffins, manticores, minotaurs, wyverns and many more. But they were dominated by the creatures which helped the Targaryens conquer Westeros.

Small dragons framed the gates. Dragon tails formed archways and staircases. Roofs were shaped as though dragons hovered on top of towers and other buildings.

Everywhere there were dragons. Even in the dungeons. They seemed to loom at him and he wondered if this was where he would die. Like the forty-four men he witnessed butchered like pigs in a slaughterhouse earlier that day. His last sight that of the hateful purple eyes of the Mad King and his last breath of salt and smoke and brimstone.

***

Sansa

Sansa immediately tensed and sat up rigidly upon seeing her father’s enraged face when he joined them to break their fast.

“It’s confirmed. Ned Stark’s ship was blocked and ordered to head for Dragonstone. All the crew were taken prisoner and Stark and Manderly were brought before Aerys” Tywin reported.

She heard Tygett muttered a curse but kept her eyes focused on her father’s stony face, “What else? Did your man say why they were summoned there?”

She heard Tywin’s teeth ground before answering, “Aerys is accusing House Stark of fomenting rebellion. He received a letter reporting such”

“You don’t believe it” Sansa said with certainty.

“My spies North have not reported any army movements. The only difference noted was the start of them rebuilding their fleet. But that’s to be expected, what with the growing trade with the West. The North needs to have a fleet of their own to protect their trading vessels from the Ironborn. Northern timber and lumber are valuable. Those damned krakens are surely salivating like feral mongrel dogs to seize them so they could add more ships to their fleet.”

“Is there any way for your people to get Ned Stark out of Dragonstone father?”

Tywin’s jaws clenched once more, “No. Too dangerous. The surrounding waters are infested with loyalists.

Sansa closed her eyes upon hearing the answer. She knew it was going to be the case but having it confirmed just made it even more terrible. 

A letter. If Ned was betrothed to Catelyn, Sansa would think it was machinated by Littlefinger. As it was, her spy gave her constant reports of Petyr Baelish living an unremarkable life in the Fingers under the thumb of his tyrant of a father.

The Stark’s downfall will bring no benefit to Littlefinger. House Lannister certainly has not part in the plot. She also doubted House Tyrell has any role in it. Jon Arryn is Ned Stark's foster father. Hoster Tully his future goodfather. Robert Baratheon is still his friend. The Martells? Just impossible.

No, southern houses will not reap any benefit. But it will surely benefit House Bolton. And House Ryswell. Roose Bolton was arranged to wed Bethany Ryswell. They've already proven capable of betrayal. 

“Father, what about what we talked about last time? Any progress? Have you spoken to Lord Baratheon?”

“I am going to have a talk with Steffon this evening. It won’t be long and this news will break out. As for the others, I have already sent messengers to Riverrun, the Eyrie and Sunspear”

“Riverrun, the Eyrie and Sunspear—what the hell are you two talking about?” Tygett asked, brows furrowed.

“A Great Council Tygett, keep up” Tywin answered with a slightly mocking tone.

“A Great Council?! You two—” Tygett shook his head then scoffed, “No, never mind. With you two schemers, anything is possible”

“It’s not enough” Sansa interrupted, “The travel would take weeks. And we won’t be able to mount a rescue for Ned Stark and Lord Manderly if King Aerys decided to stay at Dragonstone. The King must be forced to bring them here”

“Aerys will not kill Ned Stark. He will need the boy to control Rickard. As for forcing the fool, that’s very easy. A rumor or two of Rhaegar trying to get the lords to his side will have the idiot cripple come crawling to defend his throne” Tywin answered with a sneer.

Sansa relaxed a bit.

Her father had it right. Aerys may have his eyes set on House Stark at present but Tywin Lannister and Rhaegar remain his two greatest foes. And the Boltons and the Ryswells…

Roose Bolton once conspired with Tywin Lannister and Walder Frey. Perhaps he and his father would be open to another Lannister proposal this time.

 _The end, of course, will be different this time around, I'll make sure of it._

***

Rickard

_Blocked by ships from the Royal Fleet. Summoned by the King to Dragonstone._

Rickard crushed the small scroll with shaking hands, mind scrambling.

_No. No. Blocked? Royal Fleet? A summon from the King? What does he want? Why Dragonstone? This can’t be good. Nothing was ever good when it came to dealing with Aerys for years now._

A knock on the door caught his attention and when it opened and showed Lyanna on the other side, his anger only worsened.

“What do you want this time Lyanna?” he asked impatiently.

Lyanna entered his solar quietly and meekly sat on the chair in front of him, making Rickard’s eyes sharpen at the mummer’s act. The girl hesitated before speaking, her eyes and tone both pleading, “I… I’ve come to speak with you about my betrothal. Father, please…I know I have been very difficult but please, don’t make me spend the rest of my life in Bear Island. I won’t be able to bear it. Surely—”

Rickard threw the crumpled scroll in front of his daughter and snapped, “Read.”

The girl read the scroll with a frown then raised confused eyes at him, “What is this? Ned summoned by the King to Dragonstone? Why?”

“You have heard of the King’s madness have you not? Why do you think he mobilized the Royal Fleet to intercept your brother’s ship? What do you think this means for us?”

“That...I don’t know” the girl answered shaking her head.

“This means your brother is in danger. Our house and the North are both in danger. And now, after refusing to marry the Baratheon heir and denying the North an important alliance, you still have the gall to make further complaints, more demands?” Rickard could not help but raise his voice the longer he spoke, “Grow up you stupid child. And stop talking about what you want. I have no patience left to hear them. And as you can see, I have infinitely more pressing matters to see to. Our house, the North, your brother’s life. Now, since you clearly cannot help, get out of my solar”

After Lyanna quietly shuffled out of the room, Rickard closed his eyes tiredly for a few minutes and tried to clear his head but Ned’s words continued to haunt him.

_My son, my heir. And one of my most trusted people who’s also the lord to the only city in the North. It’s a terrible situation._

He opened his eyes again and reached for a clean parchment when his eyes fell on the other strange scroll he has not read yet. The seal did not belong to any house. He picked it up and opened it.

_Lord Stark,_

_At Highgarden, you told me you would gladly host me in Winterfell should I get the opportunity to visit the North in the future. That you would show me your thousands of years old godswood and the crypt of the Kings of Winter._

_Allow me to express my gratitude once more. Know that even though we cannot be family, I consider House Stark a friend and an ally. And though my family’s reputation isn’t the best, know that I take good care of my friends. My father too has expressed his willingness to help. We will provide as much aid to your son as we can but please, do keep our participation a secret between friends._

_Also, be careful in the dark my lord. Watch your flanks. Keep it safe from a horse’s kick or a particularly sharp blade. Do not trust oaths of fealty—not even promises of Guest Rights._

The writer may have left out their name but he knew exactly who it came from.

Lady Sansa Lannister.

The failed betrothal that put an end to her becoming the future Lady Stark and preventing them from becoming family. The talk about seeing the godswood and the crypt.

It could only be Lord Tywin's daughter. 

And if her words were true, the Great Lion would also provide help willingly. _Tywin Lannister._ A far better, stronger ally than even Jon Arryn and Steffon Baratheon.

Rickard released a relieved sigh and his worry for Ned lessened. Then tensed up and became uneasy once more when he remembered the warning about protecting his flanks from horses and blades. 


	48. Tywin/Rhaegar/Sansa

Tywin

“Aerys reportedly already sent summons to Stark to go to Dragonstone. He also had the forty-four crewmen of Manderly’s ship butchered like pigs and has commanded Velaryon to have their heads put in a box and sent North. I am certain Stark will comply to ensure his heir’s life, unknowing that if he sets even a single foot on that island, he’s dead” Tywin shared his spy’s report.

As expected, Steffon's face darkened in anger, “Forty-four men! The fucking bastard! This is why he went there. So he can do whatever he wanted without anyone questioning his decisions or trying to circumvent or stop his orders.”

“Hn. Are you really surprised he’s doing this?” Tywin asked with a quirked brow.

Steffon massaged his temples and breathed deep, “This can’t go on. He’ll use this to display power. To prove he isn’t as feeble as rumors said he was. I can already imagine the corpse of Stark, his heir and Manderly tied and dragged behind his palanquin when he returns. He’ll probably consider that as a triumphant return to the city.”

Tywin smirked in dark amusement, “Hn. You know your cousin well”

“I would appreciate it if you never remind me of the familial association ever again” Steffon said with a glare before frowning once more, “I still don’t understand. I have talked with Rickard Stark and I, for one, do not believe him so foolish as to make himself Aerys' target. You have spies everywhere. Tell me, do you really believe Rickard Stark is planning a rebellion?”

Tywin scoffed at the absurdity of the question, “Although the man has ambitions for the North, independence or isolation is certainly not his goal. His heir is betrothed to Tully’s younger daughter, in case you’ve forgotten. And he and his North are reaping the benefits of the continued trade agreement with the West—a trade agreement I could put a stop to anytime”

Steffon pinched the bridge of his nose and made a sound of frustration, “Then who is it? And more importantly, why? My guts say this has something to do with that new fleet and Velaryon and Staunton whispering in Aerys' ears but I cannot make a connection. Share that genius mind of yours. Explain it to me.”

Tywin tapped his fingers lightly on the table's surface while thinking before deciding to share his suspicions. Getting his childhood friend to agree to his proposal is the goal after all. “At least your guts has its uses. Yes, I too suspect Velaryon and Staunton, with perhaps some participation from the Boltons. The Tyrells too are suspect. As for the reason, I believe this is about consolidating power for Aerys and later on, Viserys, and mayhap also an attack against me”

Steffon’s eyes widened, “What?! What made you think that? Aerys I understand. But Viserys? He's a second son and just a babe to boot”

“You should’ve already seen enough of how the relationship between Aerys and Rhaegar has severely deteriorated. Rhaegar is what now? One and twenty? And yet Aerys has not once trusted Rhaegar with any meaningful position in the Small council. Nor is he taking measures to prepare him to rule when the right time comes. Instead, he has his firstborn spied on and treats his youngest child like the heir. Velaryon and Staunton are taking advantage of that. But with Aerys having few allies left, they have to maneuver things to get the result they want.”

“But why go for Stark?” Steffon asked with great puzzlement.

“Because he is the weakest target whose death will be most beneficial to their cause” Tywin bluntly answered.

To his irritation, Steffon continued to look like a clueless idiot. “Beneficial?”

“If Stark and his heir die, who will be left to lead House Stark? Stark’s daughter, a wild girl of fifteen? His youngest son, a boy of seven?”

Steffon’s face turned grim, “No. Aerys will strip them of everything, including their lives.”

Tywin scoffed at his old friend’s lack of imagination and historical awareness, “Wrong. The Boltons will descend upon Winterfell like the starving beasts they are and Stark's remaining children will be flayed, filleted and served to Aerys on their best silver platter so they could be rewarded rule over the North”

The Starks and the Boltons have one of the oldest and bloodiest rivalries in the entire Seven Kingdoms and though the Boltons have bent the knee to the Starks, the certainty of the flayed man waiting for an opportunity to usurp the wolves exists. This fact Tywin is highly aware of. Knowing the weaknesses of other great houses he could exploit should the need arise is a must after all.

Steffon’s face cleared in understanding, “And with the Boltons ruling, they’ll have the North”

“Exactly. But that‘s only part of it. As I mentioned, this is also an attack against me. Remember my son Jaime and Ned Stark are both betrothed to Tully’s girls. If the marriages are successful and there are heirs, that would make mine and Stark’s grandchildren cousins. As for the trade, with the North rebuilding its own fleet and coincidentally helping me strengthen the Lannister fleet through the timber and lumber trade, I am quite certain Velaryon and Olenna are particularly unhappy.”

“This can’t go on” Steffon repeated his earlier sentiment, “We absolutely cannot let this happen. This is madness! Utter stupidity! Tell me you have a solution up your sleeves”

Tywin looked the man in the eye and let silence reign between them for a while before speaking, “Rhaegar. We must speak with him.”

“What exactly do you have in mind? What can Rhaegar do?”

“It’s time for him to step up and act the proper future King of the Seven Kingdoms”

***

Rhaegar

“Prince Rhaegar” the Lords Lannister and Baratheon stood in greeting upon his entrance to the Hand’s solar.

The atmosphere was heavy and the two lords looked utterly serious and Rhaegar knew the ensuing conversation was going to be a very critical one. And he just knew it will have something to do with his mad father’s actions at Dragonstone.

“My lords, you have asked to see me?” Rhaegar asked once he was seated, Arthur standing guard at his back.

“Yes Your Highness. It’s a matter of great importance” Lord Baratheon answered, his eyes grim and body taut with tension.

“I had guessed as much” Rhaegar said with a nod, “It’s the first time, I believe, that you both asked to meet me in private. To what do I owe this pleasure my lords?”

“When history is written, Prince Rhaegar, what kind of king do you want the scribes and maesters to call you? What kind of legacy are you going to leave behind?” Lord Lannister suddenly spoke, his disconcerting pale green eyes flecked with gold fixed on him.

Rhaegar tried very hard not to show his unease at the Great Lion’s line of questioning.

This is why he barely interacted with the Lord of the West. He has always found Lord Lannister's pale green eyes intimidating since he was still a child. They always looked as if they were assessing him—felt as if they could see through him, including things he didn’t know about himself. The Lady Sansa, young as she was, shared the same unnerving gaze sometimes.

It irked him. He is the Crown Prince and yet he feels like a creature being inspected under their sight. And when he marries Lady Sansa…He is already dreading the thought of increased time spent with their gazes pinned on him.

“My Lord” Rhaegar spoke after gathering his calm, “surely you already know the answers I will give to your questions. What is it exactly you want to speak with me?”

“The King is insane” Lord Tywin stated bluntly, “He has been for years. And now he’s gone and committed the stupidest thing he’s ever done in his entire reign—captured the heir of the Warden of the North and accusing them of rebellion. How do you intend to address this problem?”

“He is the King” Rhaegar answered but even he knew it was a weak one. His father is mad. All of them know it.

But, he wears the crown and sits the Iron Throne still. And many lords still support him. Going against him is a gamble. A gamble he refused to make. 

“And as I said, insane” was Lord Tywin’s short response.

Rhaegar forced himself to meet the man’s eyes, “My Lords, this talk, to me, seems like it will lead to treason. I hope that is not the reason you’ve asked to see me”

“Will you still call it treason if I tell you what is happening right now will lead to your enemies gathering support not only for your Mad Father but also ensure a power bloc for Prince Viserys, your younger brother? That inaction at this crucial point in time will give those who desire a regency a stronger chance to take away your crown, your birthright?”

Lord Lannister’s talk of regency immediately made him think of Velaryon and Staunton whispering in his mad father’s ears. A rage unlike any other filled Rhaegar and he gripped the armrest of his chair tight to keep himself in place, “And what has led you to this conclusion Lord Lannister?”

“If the Starks should fall, who do you think will your father choose as the new ruling house of the North?” Lord Lannister asked with his sharp eyes pinned on him.

“House Bolton” he answered. A house that has no loyalties nor sympathies for House Stark of course, this Rhaegar knows. Then quickly realized with a sinking feeling what Lord Lannister was going to say next.

“And when your father names Viserys his heir, who will the Boltons support?” Lord Lannister asked.

“You clearly asked me to see you two with an end goal in mind. A goal, I am sure, that will see to ending my father’s rule and I on the throne. What is it exactly you suggest I do my lords?” Rhaegar asked instead of answering the question.

“A Great Council, Your Highness” Lord Baratheon responded this time, “We recommend a Great Council. Have the King Aerys' crimes brought to light. Let justice be served and let the lords see and choose you as the worthy person to sit the Iron Throne and rule instead.”

“He is still the King. Anointed in the sight of the Seven. There is no guarantee that the lords will flock to my side”

“You already have the support of Houses Lannister and Baratheon. House Tully will also no doubt follow. House Arryn too, with Jon Arryn as Ned Stark’s foster father. The Martells and the Hightowers have no love for your Father after what he’s done to Lewyn Martell and Gerold Hightower” Lord Baratheon answered.

Rhaegar considered the Lord Hand’s words.

The West is united under House Lannister and Dorne under House Martell. The Vale, the Stormlands and the Riverlands might pose problems but what matters is their liege lords supporting him. House Hightower holds Oldtown. The North too will no doubt stand behind him if he saves House Stark. It’s a reassuring thought.

Feeling more confident, Rhaegar asked, “And how do you propose we go about assembling a Great Council my lords?”

***

Sansa

Garon, her falconer tutor, was right. Peregrine birds were excellent in flight. Less than three hours of soaring and diving in the air and she was able to reach Dragonstone.

Making sure to fly as high as she could to avoid being spotted and shot with an arrow, she surveyed the grim place and looked for the Sea Dragon Tower. She’s learned it’s where noble prisoners were housed.

Finding the tower shaped like a dragon gazing serenely out across the sea, she carefully landed on a windowsill and surveyed the room. It was empty. She flew and checked the other rooms. Most of them were empty. Even the rooms that looked like cells inside the tower.

Getting more worried as an hour of fruitless searching passed, she proceeded to the massive Stone Drum where more dungeons were kept.

Hoping to hear rumors or gossips of where her father in the previous life was, she started from the top where she knew the famous Chamber of the Painted Table was located. She quietly hopped on a ledge and looked inside.

The Mad King! And Lord Velaryon!

Their back was thankfully to hers. Deciding quickly, she flew up and made herself comfortable on the rafters.

It was Lord Velaryon she heard talk first, “House Bolton is prepared to mount an attack the moment Stark leaves Winterfell”

“I want every one of them dead. You hear me Lucerys? All of them. I’ll not have a Stark leading a northern rebellion. I want the North whole and cowering under the Boltons” the Mad King growled out.

“It shall be done My King” Lord Velaryon said with a deep bow.

Aerys laughed, sounding pleased with himself, “Good! This should teach Tywin and the trout Tully a lesson. The damned trade stops. The Lannister fleet stops growing. And Tully’s dream of having his daughter be the wife of a future warden is destroyed. Their houses won’t be able to unite and be a threat to me”

“Yes, indeed Your Grace” Lord Velaryon simpered.

“And the Stark boy? Has the Maester seen to him?”

“Yes Your Grace. He is healing quite nicely” Lord Velaryon said. 

“Yes. Yes. I want the father and son to meet again before their end. That should make for a truly moving reunion wouldn’t you say?” Aerys asked with a demented laugh.

“Indeed it shall, My King”

“And when this is all done. I’ll get Tywin next. Hah! He really thinks I’d let his daughter be the future Queen! Fool! It’s a pity the little bitch didn’t die in the Stormlands. What was the poison used again?”

“The Strangler, Your Grace”

“And you still cannot find out who did it?”

Lord Velaryon bowed once more and spoke in a placating tone, “Apologies Your Grace, my men have done all they could but have not been able to find out who did it”

“How disappointing. It was a daring move against Tywin. Very daring. I am certain whoever did it would’ve been a great ally to have. It’s not every day someone tries to cross the Great fucking Lion. Well, no matter, the little lion-bitch will die one way or another”

Sansa wanted to listen to the conversation more but her sharp sight blurred and their voices turned muffled until she could hear no more.

With a gasp, she opened her eyes to the view of the canopy of her bed.

She didn’t see him but Ned’s alive. That’s a great relief. 

But the conversation…


	49. Sansa/Tywin/Ned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Year 278 AC  
> Tyrion 5-6  
> Sansa 11-12  
> Lysa 12-13  
> Jaime 13-14  
> Lyanna 13-14  
> Cat 15-16  
> Ashara 15-16  
> Ned 16-17  
> Stannis 16-17  
> Bobby B 17-18  
> Rhaegar 20-21

Sansa

“And this is?” her father asked with a puzzled frown after Sansa placed the rolled parchment in front of him.

“A map of the Red Keep—the _entire_ Red Keep. The dungeons, the black cells, and all the tunnels and secret passages to and from the castle.”

Her father’s brows rose to his hairline before he reached out and quickly but carefully unfurled the map. “And where did you find such a highly coveted treasure?” he asked, sharp eyes on the map while his lips formed a faint smirk.

Sansa knew what she’s about to do was a huge gamble. She’s also certain it has the potential to change the dynamics in their relationship, especially if her father’s brain connected certain events and asked a few particular questions. She only hoped the rest of what she’s about to say prevented him from making certain deductions. But if he did…well, she’ll just have to perform the best mummery the Seven Kingdoms has ever seen.

She has weighed the possibilities and knew that keeping her skinchanging secret at this point was no longer beneficial. The situation has gotten dire and she needed his help and his protection to ensure she can have the freedom to do what was needed to be done. 

She knew he will no doubt be a little resistant at first with the idea of sharing skin with animals but Tywin Lannister is, above all, a practical man. He believed there is a tool for every task and a task for every tool. Given enough explanation, he’ll surely see the merits of her capabilities—how it will benefit them further, and he’ll move to protect her secret at all cost.

Most of all, though he was a difficult man, he has proven time and again just how far he’d go to protect his family and the Lannister legacy. He went to war for Tyrion. He went to war for Cersei, his stupid, wastrel daughter and Joffrey, the cruel, mad boy who she’s sure he’s aware was a product of incest between his two children.

Of this she's certain: _He’ll go to war for her._

“Father, what do you know about skinchanging?” 

Tywin’s brows fell and knitted together before he took on an annoyed look, “I asked you a question and you waste time asking me what I know about wild tales crones and maids tell to frighten unruly children into obedience?”

“I assure you I did not come to waste your time,” Sansa answered calmly, putting as much seriousness as she could in her voice and expression, “What do you know?”

“Very little and of no importance. Speak plainly girl, I do not have the time to speak about matters best left for zealots and idiots” he said with a hint of impatience before running his eyes on the precious map once more. 

“I am a skinchanger,” she confessed after determinedly pushing away the reluctance she felt at sharing such a vital part of herself.

Green eyes snapped to her and he tilted his head, giving her a considering stare with his mouth a thin line before ordering, “Say that again. I must have misheard you.”

“You heard me right the first time. I am a skinchanger.”

He shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered, “Bloody Aerys. His madness must be contagious.”

Sansa's lips twitched in wry amusement but she held her tongue and let him process the information she provided in silence. 

She understood very well his disbelief. Tywin was a man who relied on intellect, logic and reason. He has very little patience for emotional concerns and things that don’t make sense—like religion, faith or any sort of magic. She didn’t blame him for thinking the situation absurd, she’d been in similar situations in the past herself. The feeling she got when she learned about Jon having been resurrected from the dead, of Arya having trained to be a Faceless Assassin, of Bran being the Three-Eyed Raven who could share skin with birds—they all made her feel like a fool in some strange fever dream.

With the lines on his face drawn tight, he looked critically at her once more. “A skinchanger you said? Like the ones told in tales…people who wear the skin of beasts?”

“Yes,” she answered succinctly, her mismatched eyes meeting his.

He remained silent for a long while and continued looking at her with his piercing green-gold eyes. Then he broke the silence by asking, “How? How did this happen? And who else knows?”

She leaned forward and took one of his large, calloused hands in hers to make a physical connection with him. To show him her trust in him in sharing such an important secret. “No one else knows Father—only you and I. I didn’t even want to tell you for I know very well the dark reputation attached to skinchanging. How people with the capability to do it are hunted down and butchered like animals. As for how it started…It started with dreams. For moons, in my dreams, I flew. I flew over the Tower of the Hand, the Red Keep, the Capital, the Crownlands. Over time, I realized they were not just strange dreams. They were real. I was inside a bird. I could fly and see through its eyes.”

Confusion and disbelief warred in his expression for a while before a ray of realization appeared, “Your interest in falconry. Those infernal cats and mangy dogs running around. They’re part of all this….” 

“Yes. Around the time I expressed interest in falconry—that’s when I confirmed that what was happening to me weren’t merely dreams. And yes, the dogs and cats were helpful practice. The map you have in your hands is a product of my skinchanging with them and navigating the Red Keep”

“Good gods girl,” Tywin muttered again, his face disturbed, voice a bit strangled. He looked at the map once more before dropping it. “Is it safe? You’re not in danger while doing this… this… whatever this madness is?”

“I’ve been working on my control. I’m quite proficient at it now and could hold it for hours,” she told him with a small assuring smile.

“You’ve kept this secret for this long, why have you decided to tell me now?”

“I flew to Dragonstone earlier this morning,” she shared in a low voice and felt his hand jerk in surprise.

***

Tywin

“What?!” Tywin hissed and glared and ignored when his daughter winced when he pulled his hand from hers abruptly.

Dragonstone! That accursed island where mad Aerys is holing up with all his stupid, loyal lapdogs.

She could have gotten herself hurt! The distance between Kingslanding and Dragonstone alone…

What if she tired and fell into the sea and failed to return to her own body for some reason? What if another raptor attacked her while she was wearing the skin of another bird? What if she was shot with an arrow by someone eager to make a sport of taking down a bird on flight?

Skinchanging did not make one invincible—the stories of old made examples of them.

Seven hells! A skinchanger…

The small hairs on his neck prickled and his mind spun once more.

He could not believe it quite yet. He didn’t even believe in the gods' existence but…

Joanna’s concerns regarding their youngest daughter all came rushing back—the unusual signs of intelligence, her much too early forays toward independence, some things his late wife found strange, all the attributes he dismissed as his child being a prodigious one, of being like him. 

He now wondered if all those things were indeed natural or if Joanna had the right of it and something else was at work. If this…skinchanging, this unnatural…gift or curse played a role.

“Father.”

His child’s soft voice reached his ears and he blinked and focused on her once more.

“I tried to see if I could get information on what exactly is happening. I tried to see if I could have a glimpse of Ned Stark and Lord Manderly. I failed but I did get confirmation they’re alive and had a chance to spy on the King.”

Tywin’s worries were pushed to the back by the new information. “You spied on Aerys? What did you find out?”

“The Boltons are indeed involved. From what I heard, it seems the moment Lord Stark leaves the North, they're ordered to attack. And…”

“What is it?” Tywin asked impatiently when his daughter trailed off with a look of contemplation on her face. 

“Based on the conversation the King had with Lord Velaryon, it seems to me that this…everything that’s happening is a machination of the King himself and those loyal to him. They plan to put the North in Bolton hands once House Stark is taken care of. And afterwards, they plan on moving against you, against our family.”

Tywin felt his contempt for the Mad Cripple intensify even more. The information his daughter shared no longer shocked him. Targaryens have proven time and again just how greedy, jealous and destructive creatures they are after all. Only a few have turned out to be good and beneficial for the Seven Kingdoms. The rest knew nothing but to be useless and foolish and good at wrecking things around them. And Aerys was nothing but another product of their damned line would do his best to continue being the vermin he was and try to drag others down.

“That I could believe. It’s not so surprising he’s using the Boltons to get rid of the Starks. Aerys has lost many allies because of his follies and he is definitely mad and stupid enough to concoct such a harebrained scheme in a bid to consolidate power. He has the Reach and the Crownlands. The Vale, the Riverlands and the Stormlands are divided with almost half of them supporting Targaryen rule. The Martells hold Dorne but if push comes to shove, they may have issues with other houses who rival their claim—the Yronwoods and the Daynes for exmaple. Only the West is truly united under our rule.”

“I want to continue. Spying on the King, I mean. I just wanted to let you know first and to get your permission and…well, your protection. I’ll need your help to make an excuse and cover for me while I go do what I must.”

His mouth thinned at hearing his child’s far too grave voice and, for what felt like years, he looked at his child. Really looked at her. And was struck with a lance through the chest.

A girl. Of only eleven.

Red-gold hair. Mismatched blue and green eyes. A beautiful but far too serious face like his. With a good heart but an even better mind. Far too intelligent for her own good. A skin changer.

A little girl. Playing the game of thrones.

She’ll make a great queen, better than any the Seven Kingdoms has ever known or seen. Rhaegar didn’t deserve her. Will never deserve her, not even if he lived a thousand years and was crowned King of the World.

The Targaryens destroyed whatever they touched. What will become of his daughter after she’s married and touched by a Targaryen? What will be left of her years down the line after she’s birthed him heirs? When she’s aged and withered?

Gods, but he hasn’t even seen her really laugh or play or act like a child. Joanna just gave birth to her and he saw her a few times but was away for most of the time. And when he started having her by his side, she was no more a child but an adult imprisoned inside a child’s body.

“Father?” she asked with a raised brow, eyes a bit baffled while looking at him.

“Eleven. You’re only eleven, much younger than I was when I involved myself in dangerous schemes and war and ruling and…” he stopped and took a deep breath, “Do you truly comprehend the gravity of everything that’s happening, Sansa?”

“Of course I understand. I wouldn’t be here doing the things I’m doing if I didn’t,” she answered right away, tone firm and full of conviction.

“You know that all these could lead to war, perhaps even death? That your life is on the line when you do these dangerous things?” he asked further and watched as her lips thinned into a small line and a frown made its way onto her pretty little delicate face.

She looked thoughtful at his question but only for a little while. No more than half a minute passed and her expression turned resolute once more, her dual colored eyes both cold and fiercer than before.

“Yes, I do know Father. As for war…That’s why we’re doing these dangerous things, aren’t we? To prevent it from happening. If we failed, then I trust you will get us out of here and win it. As for death, well, it’s not really something we can control, is it? Anyone could die anytime. I could die anytime. I could fall down the stairs later or choke on my food at dinner or never wake up tomorrow,” she shrugged her little shoulders and gave him an amused little smile, “Why worry about it? Why should I let my fear of it stop me from achieving my goals?”

“And do you understand that when you marry Rhaegar, when you become the Queen, it will be a constant uphill battle with perhaps no happiness, no peace of mind, no recourse along the way? That you might have nothing in the end but duty and suffering and regrets?”

“Happiness and peace of mind are fleeting, fickle things, Father—here today and gone tomorrow. They’re not worthy goals to me, not when the world we live in is a harsh place, filled with cruel people who’ll try to steal or destroy our happiness and peace of mind simply to make themselves feel better. Duty and suffering…aren’t those the norm of our time and station in life anyway? As for regrets—I’ll only regret it if I don’t do my best to pursue my goal.”

“And what is truly your goal?”

“The same as before. The Seven Kingdoms at peace. To rule it—with or without Rhaegar—and leave a legacy that would last a thousand years.” 

Tywin felt his lips twitch at the words his child uttered. His heart ached a little, to hear her say such things. To see just how much she’s lost her innocence. To witness with his own two eyes how much the babe he carried in his arms just a few years ago has grown and matured in such a short time.

But he’s also pleased—so proud that she’s smart and knew exactly what needed to be done for their family, for their house. Knew what’s expected of a Lannister. A child after his own heart.

Most of all, he’s relieved. He’s relieved assured with the fact that even if he died the next day, his child would not be left ignorant of the ways of the world. She would not be made a weak, useless prey for feral beasts and raptors to feast upon. She would not be a pawn for the players of the game to manipulate, use, abuse and discard according to their whims.

She’ll be wise and strong and she’ll accomplish many things even after he’s gone. And she and Jaime—they would be his legacy.

“Swear you have mastery over this…this skinchanging and that you will not put yourself in too much danger. That you will always tell me when you’re going to leave and you will always come back from wherever it is you decide to go to. Swear these and you shall have my support and my protection.”

***

Ned

“Ned? Ned?”

Eddard blearily opened his eyes to a large fuzzy form moving in front of him. He blinked several times to get rid of the blurriness only to finally see Lord Wyman’s face.

“Ned, my boy, can you hear me?” the Lord of White Harbor asked, his gaunt face worried.

Ned groaned and swallowed through his parched throat before responding in a coarse voice, “Lord Wyman, what is it?”

“Thank the Old Gods and the New! I saw how the maester did his best to cure you but…how are you truly feeling my lord? How about your back? Still in much pain?”

“Water,” Ned answered.

“Water? Oh! Water. Of course!” the older man exclaimed before turning around and calling out, “Ser Rodrik!”

“Aye, my lord. I’m on it.”

He heard Ser Rodrik responded before hurried steps left, only to return after a short while, a pitcher on one hand and a tall mug on the other.

“Here’s your water my lord. Do you need help sitting up?” his faithful guard asked.

“No, I can manage,” Ned answered then forcefully moved his heavy limbs and slowly sat up before gratefully accepting the offered mug. He drank thirstily while slowly taking in the new surroundings.

“Where are we?” he asked after taking in every drop possible.

The Lord of White Harbor was the one who provided him answers. “The maester advised the King to provide better accommodations if he wanted you to live, my lord. We’ve been moved to the Sea Dragon Tower, thank the gods. This, I believe, is where noble prisoners are normally held. The maester’s chambers are located high atop this tower so if you need anything, simply say so and we’ll request the guards to get him for you.”

Ned breathed a sigh of relief at the information but remembered there was something, rather someone, missing, “Where’s Martyn?”

Silence followed his query and when he looked at the faces of his companions, he saw Lord Wyman’s face turned even grimmer and Ser Rodrik’s expression a mix of fury and fear.

“My brother’s been taken my lord. The King most likely has him, doing gods know what,” the knight answered in a low, trembling voice.

Ned clenched his fists and felt his chest constrict. He felt helpless and powerless once more. Another person suffering in the name of duty and loyalty to his family. Who’s next? Ser Rodrik? Lord Wyman? How many more shall lose their lives to save him? How many more shall die should war happen? And all these because of the paranoia of a mad ruler.

He closed his eyes and swallowed what tasted like bile in his throat before turning to Lord Wyman, “Is there any news? About Father? The North?”

“From your father and the North, none so far my lord. Last we heard from the japes of the guards, the corpses of our crew were on their way to White Harbor to be delivered to your Father,” Lord Manderly answered with a hard edge to his lowered tone before whispering almost quietly, “I did catch a few rumors about something brewing in Kingslanding that’s making the King displeased. I’m not sure exactly what it is but it seems to be of some importance.”

Ned nodded his head gratefully at the older man then shifted his gaze to the small window placed high on the wall where he saw a small bird between the iron bars. He smiled a little when its small head twisted curiously this way and that before flapping its wings and flying away. With a heavy heart, he closed his eyes and prayed to the Old Gods to grant them freedom from the Mad King too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all, I am so very sorry for the hiatus. The past three months have been the absolute worst for my family and there were so many important things that happened (and still happening) that I didn't have the inspiration or the time to write. I'm back though--not full-time but...back to writing some at least. I'm still in the process of re-reading this story to get a feel of things and get back on track. I hope you all are safe and enjoy this new chapter (which was written uhmm three months ago?). Thanks very much for all the kudos and support!


	50. Tywin/Sansa/Rickard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Halloween treat! I hope you like it :)

Tywin

When a long, sharp inhale then exhale broke the quiet of his solar, Tywin dropped his quill, stood up from his seat and approached the daybed placed in one corner of the room where his daughter’s body lay while she skinchanged and spied on the King at Dragonstone.

“Sansa, are you alright?” he asked as he sat down on the ornate wooden chair opposite her.

He watched her blink several times before she focused her dual-colored eyes on him and responded, “I am fine Father.”

He took note of the weary look in her eyes and her voice and grimaced as he clenched his jaws.

Six hours. That’s how long she left her body in his solar. That’s how long he waited while making sure to check her little chest rose and fell as she breathed, making sure she was alive while she flew to lands so far from his reach, so far from his protection. It had felt like an eternity and he didn’t like it.

“Ned Stark is in much better condition,” he heard her whisper. “Along with Lord Manderly, he’s been given better accommodations and seen to by a maester. But it might not last. Already the King has taken one of his guards and tortured him. I have not seen the man but…he might not be alive for long.”

Tywin scoffed. “It doesn’t matter if all his guards die. That’s what they’re for—to fight and protect their lords with their lives. What’s important is for the Heir to Winterfell and the North and the Lord of White Harbor to remain alive. What else did you find out?”

“The King has heard the rumors,” his daughter said with the corners of her lips curling up, “Of more and more nobles starting to throw their support behind Rhaegar. He’s enraged and it might not be long before he makes an appearance.”

“Good,” Tywin said with a smirk, pleased with the news. “That’s exactly what we want. When he returns to the capital with Ned Stark and Manderly, then we’ll have more opportunity to save them and proceed with the next steps. Anything else?”

She shook head and with a tired exhale. “None so far, Father. I’ll go again tomorrow and spend more time watching the skies for ravens. We might be able to find out more through messages.”

Tywin’s lips thinned and he suppressed the urge to voice his displeasure at hearing the words. If there were other, better choices, he’d never allow her to do the damned skinchanging thing again. But there were no other choices and needs must.

“Very well,” he grudgingly agreed. Then, looking her in the eye, he said, “I have some important questions for you, daughter. Questions I need answered before you take a rest.”

Like irritating splinters under his skin, thoughts of Cersei’s death and the godforsaken horse that caused it have persistently prickled in the back of his mind for hours now and he wanted to get rid of the dark thoughts his active brain has started to entertain.

Murder and kinslaying. No. No. He could not and did not want to believe it. He refused to. They’re crimes that didn’t make sense attached to his youngest daughter’s name.

Of his two daughters, Sansa has proven herself better than Cersei in everything. And, despite her capability to plan schemes and make hard and harsh decisions, his younger daughter has proven herself possessing a secretly, stubbornly good heart and shown over and over again her capability for genuine kindness, not only in words but also in deeds.

She has shown it in her easy relationships with her uncles and aunt, in her love and concern for her brothers (including the despicable, wretched imp), in her ability to forge friendships with others far below her station, in her charity works which she started since she was very young, in her concern for the welfare of others who shouldn’t even matter.

Even her ambition to become Queen was one with good intentions. She wanted to be Queen because she wanted to help set the kingdoms to rights and at peace, not because she hungered for power or fame or the lavish lifestyle that came along with it. Hells she barely took advantage of the unmatched Lannister wealth for herself. When she did, it was only to ask for gold to finance her orphanages and little projects.

And although she has hated her older sister, Cersei had hated her first. Moreover, Cersei had already been defanged and had been ensconced with the Martells of Dorne. There had been no further need to have her killed.

Lastly, there was that poison incident tied with Olenna Tyrell. The same Olenna whose husband Luthor Tyrell died almost the same way his eldest daughter did—with a horse jumping off a cliff.

He watched carefully as a frown made its way on her little face before she became an image of serenity once one. “What questions, Father?” she asked.

Making sure to also school his expression to one of calm, he asked, “Aside from birds, dogs and cats, what other animals can you switch skins with?”

***

Sansa

Seeing the serious look in her father’s eyes when he said he had questions that needed answered, Sansa knew that the conversation that was about to happen might turn out to be the conversation she absolutely wanted to avoid.

Hearing him ask about what else she can change skins with confirmed her suspicion. There’s no escaping it now. She’ll just have to do her best and present a very convincing mummery.

“Nothing else, Father,” she answered while meeting his green-gold eyes with her composed green and blue.

To add credence to her story, she explained further, “I experimented some the last few months. I tried to use larger animals but they wouldn’t let me. Even larger dogs and cats. It only works best with birds and puppies and kittens. My theory is that skinchanging only works with docile, less aware and less willful animals.”

“Why? Is something the matter?” she asked next then pretended to be tired by hiding a yawn and sleepily blinking her eyes.

His calm look shifted into a grave one and with a dangerous edge to his voice, he said, “Look me in the eye and tell me you didn’t kill your sister through her horse.”

Sansa immediately did as he asked. She looked him in the eye and, pretending disbelief and hurt, she asked, “What? You think I killed her? You think that I…that I would kill my own sister? For what reason would I do such a foolish, abominable thing as kinslaying?”

 _I had only one sister and her name was Arya Stark,_ she thought with a pang in her chest. _Cersei was never my sister. From the start. The girl was the foolish, abominable thing that needed to be removed from the earth._

He remained silent and watchful for a while before relaxing and leaning his back on the chair. “So you did not play a role in her unexplainable death then?”

“Of course I had no role in her death,” she fervently responded, “It is true that since we were very young, I had no love for her. No, in fact, I despised her. But faraway under the burning sun and the shifting sands of the South, she had already been made powerless. She had ceased to be a danger to me, to our family. Besides she had her uses still. She could’ve secured us the unquestionable support of the Martells and Dorne. So why would I get rid of her?”

“Just a thought that entered my mind. I am sure you understand why,” he answered before getting up and turning to go back to his work desk.

“It’s the horse, wasn’t it?” she asked out loud before he could move away further, “You thought that I skinchanged with the horse and drove her to her death.”

When he paused and turned to look at her, she quickly followed up with another question.

“Father, remember how Luthor Tyrell died? It was also through his horse jumping off a cliff while hawking, was it not?” she queried while intently watching his face, “Has it crossed your mind that I might not be the only skinchanger in existence?”

Immediately, Tywin’s back stiffened and he stood to his full height, the expression on his face frightening. “You think it possible there are more skinchangers out there?”

Sansa closed her eyes, sighed and shrugged her shoulders, “I truly do not know. But we have no evidence to prove otherwise. I wouldn’t be so arrogant or foolish to think I am the only one.”

***

Rickard

“Are you sure of this My Lord?”

Rickard tiredly pinched the bridge of his nose upon hearing Jeor Mormont’s question and looked out over the grounds where little Benjen could be seen sparring with a guard. With grave gray eyes, he watched for a while as his youngest son enthusiastically crossed training swords with his more mature opponent.

Benjen’s laughter when he fell reopened the gaping wound in his chest. The thought that so soon after losing Brandon he might lose Ned too…It was too much. Sons should not die before their fathers. They should live beyond them and be the ones to bury their parents, not the other way around.

And Benjen…His youngest boy was only six! With things so uncertain at present, if things go from bad to worse…If he lost Ned. If war broke out…If he died…He’d be leaving behind a six year old boy as Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North! How long before his boy was also devoured by hungry beasts willing to murder children for the sake of power? How long before House Stark fell and added by the maesters and chroniclers in the annals of history, to be remembered as just another extinct Great House?

Rickard closed his eyes at the dark thoughts that plagued his mind. Everything was a mess and he simply cannot make hasty decisions and leave his two young and defenseless children behind to go South and rescue another from the claws of a mad, crippled king. It was painful but…doing so would only hasten the death of his house and put the entire North in grave danger.

“I am not, Jeor. However, I have received words of assurance from an important person from the capital that they’re helping me rescue Eddard and Wyman. I cannot be hasty and leave the North with two major houses threatening to rise up the moment my back is turned.”

“An important person from the capital. Who is this that you trust them that much with young Lord Ned’s and Manderly’s safety?” the Lord of Bear Island asked with a puzzled frown.

“The Lannisters,” Rickard answered in a lowered voice.

Shock promptly found its way on his friend’s face. “The Lannisters?” Jeor asked with stunned disbelief. “But…My Lord, are you sure they’re to be trusted? Tywin Lannister’s daughter is betrothed to Prince Rhaegar. Does it not sound suspicious to you that they would offer help?”

Rickard smiled grimly at his friend’s reaction. He understood very well where Jeor was coming from. The Lannisters were far too ambitious and wouldn’t bat an eye when it came to using and discarding the people around them. Tywin Lannister himself has already proven to the Seven Kingdoms just how harsh and cruel he could be but…

“If it had been the Lord Lannister himself who reached out and told me he’s providing me assistance, I’d be suspicious myself. But it wasn’t Lord Tywin. It was the Lady Sansa who sent me a letter assuring me of her and her father’s support and given me warning about the Boltons and the Ryswells so I am willing to put my faith in them on this matter.”

“The young Lady Sansa huh?” Jeor murmured, his look of shock gone and replaced with a contemplative one. “My sister likes and trusts her very much too…Oh Maege has retained her hatred for the pomposity and stupidity of the South but oddly enough…she has nothing but praises for Tywin Lannister’s daughter. She says there’s something strangely Northern about the girl. With everything I’ve witnessed during our journey South and the letters I receive from my sister, I must say that child…is something else. Far too different from any other children I have ever met.”

Rickard nodded his head in agreement. “She was, wasn’t she? I felt some sort of connection with her myself, especially when we last spoke. Watching her comportment, listening to her ideas, hearing of the things she’s already accomplished at her age—she really was quite impressive. With her brain and her cool composure, I believe she would’ve made an excellent Lady of Winterfell. Just imagine, Jeor, all the things the North could’ve accomplished with a marriage alliance with the Lannisters and the West. If only the Mad King Aerys had not interfered…”

“If only…” the Lord of Bear Island said with a deep sigh. “So you’ll trust the Lannisters to handle things in the South and…what?”

“I have already sent messengers to all the other lords, including those of the mountain clans. I am expecting some of them to arrive in the days to come.”

“Will it be war?” Jeor asked in a grave voice.

“I hope not, my friend. I truly hope not. I pray fervently to the Old Gods it won’t come to that.”


End file.
